Just a Random Tuesday…
by Twisted Biscuit
Summary: A VERY long Tuesday in the life of Minerva McGonagall. With rampant Umbridgeitis, uncooperative Slytherins, Ministry interventions, an absent Dumbledore and a schoolwide shortage of Hot Cocoa, it’s a wonder she’s as nice as she is.
1. Morning

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Go on, tell me this surprises you…

**Additional Note:** There are multiple references to the 'relationship' between Snape and Sinistra in this piece. This is thanks to the pioneering, and brainwashing, efforts of 'She's a Star' and her innumerable brilliant stories, particularly "Lamentations…" Anyway, this story will be split into three sections: Morning, Noon and Night.

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**May 19th, 1996, 6:31 AM,**

**-Bedroom Quarters-**

"Rise and shine Minerva!" a much too cheerful voice called out.

Far from doing as instructed, Minerva rolled over and turned her back to the source of the acclamation, settling deeper in her exceptionally comfortable bed. She had been up until two AM the previous night, dealing with a Third Year Ravenclaw boy who had attempted to turn himself into an Eagle (in preparation to support his team at Quidditch, naturally). Regrettably he attempted to do so without such petty trivialities as skill, supervision or the barest hint of background reading, leaving herself and Madam Pomfrey to deal with a horrified fourteen year old with hollow bones and feathers.

So she was not ready to wake up yet, and she didn't care what Driscoll had to say about it.

"Wake-y wake-y, Minnie dear!" he repeated.

Minerva glared at the back of her eyelids. While she didn't think that the use of that appalling nickname quite merited rolling over, or indeed opening her eyes, it was certainly worthy of a glare. Why she'd ever agreed to letting that horrendously chipper portrait be her personal messenger was completely beyond her. True, she hadn't had much choice in the matter as he had been the only one available upon her appointment as Professor at Hogwarts, but that was hardly the point.

Upon her appointment as _Transfiguration_ Professor she should have been offered a different portrait. One that wasn't so cheerful. One that didn't insist upon giving each and every person it came across an infuriating nickname. One that wasn't constantly clad in bright purple robes, thereby clashing magnificently with the dark green and polished oak colour scheme of the room. Surely the needs of an Arithmancy Professor and a Transfiguration Professor were different enough to warrant a different portrait, weren't they?

"Come on Minnie! There's a bright new day ahead!"

With a small growl Minerva sat up. She then grabbed a hold of the pillow under her head, heaved it at Driscoll's portrait and attempted to go back to sleep. After a moment, Driscoll returned to the confines of the portrait, sounding rather miffed.

"Well fine." he said. "If you want to be late for Professor Umbridge's meeting…" Minerva was on her feet within three seconds; she was sitting in front of her dressing table within five. Complete with glasses, she might add. Driscoll made a smug sort of noise and then disappeared again.

Minerva was not above admitting that she would be willing to walk over hot coals each and every morning, simply to deny Delores Umbridge the satisfaction of one more obnoxious, sanctimonious little smile. In her mind, it was a more than acceptable price to pay. And so, with a quick glance at the clock across the room, Minerva began to remove her hair net, allowing her long, black waves to tumble freely down her back. They stayed that way for less than half a second before she began ruthlessly brushing them into dormancy. She then flicked her wand carelessly, allowing her hair to arrange itself into it's customary tight bun while she took care of more important things.

She moved over to her wardrobe and extracted a set of basic black robes, changing into them quickly. It was still only twenty to seven in the morning, but she tried to ignore that fact as best she could. After all, it was all done in the name of infuriating Delores Umbridge. With that thought happily in mind, Minerva yanked on a pair of black leather shoes.

She had a long hard day ahead. Not just because she had a Staff Meeting at seven o'clock in the morning, but also because she had the truly appalling prospect of having to ask Severus Snape for a favour.

Shuddering freely at the thought, Minerva reached into the wardrobe once more, extracted an emerald green, velvet shawl and placed it around her shoulders with one hand, while grabbing a black hat with the other and placing it squarely on her head. A casual flick of her wand had her room tidying itself. No reason to make more work for the House Elves, after all. She took a quick look at the clock and realised that she still had fifteen minutes before Umbridge's meeting.

More than enough time for a mug of tea in the Staff Room. Thank the Good Lord…

**6:53 AM**

**-Staff Room-**

Minerva walked briskly into the Staff Room, with seven whole minutes to spare. Half a dozen teachers were already there. Including Severus Snape, damn him. He smirked slightly at her and nodded to the coffee table, where a cup of tea (in her favourite mug) was waiting for her.

"Have some trouble getting started this morning Minerva?" he asked dryly. Minerva glared at him and took a seat on the couch next to Pomona Sprout, opposite Severus.

"The staircases moved again last night." she told him curtly as she raised the mug to her lips. She couldn't believe she was going to have to ask that git for help. As soon as the sweet, hot nectar hit her tongue she felt about a million times better. Against her will a contented sigh left her lips as she settled further into the couch. "So does anyone know what this ridiculous little conference is in reference to?" she asked cynically. "Or does our new Fuhrer just enjoy making us jump through Early Morning Hoops on demand?"

Severus looked pained. "Apparently she wishes to discuss the rampant illness in our school and the lack of control Professors have over their students." he told her.

"Rampant illness?" Professor Sinistra asked curiously. "What rampant illness? Nobody's missed a single class of mine. No one's so much as sneezed in the past six months."

A few of the teachers exchanged smiles. Sinistra, being the Astronomy Professor, was rarely forced to wander the halls in the middle of the day. And since neither her classroom, practical area, personal quarters or office (all in the Astronomy Tower) were anywhere near the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom she was often out of the loop on the goings on of the latest Professor of the subject. As she said, that was rarely a huge loss on her part as it wasn't as though she were missing anything that would stick around for a long time. As such, the effects of Skiving Snack-boxes had largely passed her by. So had Gilderoy Lockhart, but it was a bit late to be bitter about that small fact.

"I believe," Filius Flitwick explained jovially. "That our, er, dearest Delores is referring to the new illness prevalent amongst students since the departure of the Weasley twins."

"Umbridge-itis they're calling it." Professor Vector clarified with a grin from over by the door. "They take one half of the Weasley twins' little concoction in class, resulting in something extremely unpleasant happening to them and forcing Delores to let them go to the Hospital Wing, then as soon as they're out of class they down the other end and go toddling on their way."

"I walked past the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom the other day," Pomona said gleefully. "There were only two students left in her class."

Professor Sinistra was giggling into her hands. "Oh lord, they didn't?" she cackled. "Oh that's classic. Umbridge-itis? I really do love our students sometimes." Minerva herself was trying not to grin. After all, she had a reputation to uphold.

"Personally," Snape deadpanned. "I was more irritated by the 'lack of control' comment." he took a sip of his coffee. He was the only person on the staff who could stand to drink coffee first thing in the morning. He took it black as well. No sugar. Freak.

"She really said that we lacked control?" Vector queried. "Is she mad?"

Minerva rolled her eyes. "So basically, I was forced to get up at six thirty in the morning after the grand sum of four hours sleep, just because that spiteful little toad can't do her job?"

"Not at all Minerva." Severus clarified. "You were forced to get up at six thirty because she can't do her job, and _also_ assumes that we can't do ours."

"Why thank you Severus, trust you to put a positive spin on the situation." Professor Sinistra snapped sardonically. Snape looked a little put out by her tone but only very slightly. It was more akin to surprise than anything else. "Why were you up until two AM Minerva?" Sinistra asked without another glance at Snape.

Not wanting to dwell on the exchange, Minerva let out a long-suffering sigh. "Charlie Harper attempted to turn himself into an Eagle using a NEWT level incantation and a spell-reflecting mirror." a few disbelieving sniggers sounded around the room. "Poppy and I were in the Hospital Wing for seven hours trying to put it right."

"My apologies Minerva," Filius said gravely. "I would not have believed someone in my House to be so… so…"

"Moronic?" Vector supplied with ease. A few more laughs sounded about the room.

"Where is Poppy anyway?" Pomona asked curiously. "She's usually so punctual. And it's seven o'clock all ready."

"I haven't the faintest idea." Minerva stated. "But if the Great Ministry Puppet hasn't made an appearance in the next thirty-nine seconds, I'm leaving."

A murmur of agreement ran through the room, just as the sound of footsteps as well as Umbridge's infuriatingly false voice was heard from down the hall. A collective groan issued from the teachers.

"You know," Vector whispered. "I could hit her with a tripping jinx from here. We wouldn't have to put up with it."

"You'd be sacked on the spot." Sinistra whispered back.

"Only if she caught me."

"Oh enough." Minerva snapped quietly. "We are not children. We are more than capable of dealing with that pathetic little Bureaucrat without immature jinxes. And besides," she added sourly. "I am not putting up with one of her Winged Monkeys being made the Arithmancy Professor. If there's another one of her I'll be forced to resort to Unforgivables, and that is not something I'm prepared to risk."

Vector beamed at her and gracefully hopped of the sideboard she'd been perched on. She moved over to the couch and took a seat between Professors Snape and Sinistra (always a dangerous place to be). Just as she leant back into her seat, the door swung open.

**7:01 AM**

**-Ninth Circle of Hell-**

"Well you are the school nurse, aren't you?" Umbridge huffed indignantly as she waddled in after Madame Pomfrey. Poppy herself wore an expression of cold fury, her eyes bulging out of her head and her lips so thin Minerva honestly wondered if they'd ever surface again.

"I am." Poppy agreed resentfully.

"And you can't tell me what's wrong with these children! I think another review is in order, Madame Pomfrey! You are clearly slipping." Umbridge threatened.

"As you wish, Delores. But I'm telling you that there is nothing physically wrong with the children leaving your class. I am also telling you that, whether you want me to or not, I will not be chasing after them anymore. If they feel unwell, they may come and see me. But I have better things to do with my time than hunt down every child which _you_ cannot control."

Minerva raised her eyebrows. It had been a while since Poppy Pomfrey had insulted anyone. In fact Minerva hadn't heard that tone of cool contempt from her in at least ten years. Not since Poppy had learned how to put up with Snape. It was rather startling. She exchanged a look with Severus who had quirked his own brow speculatively.

Umbridge's nostrils flared. "Well if that's the case, I hardly think you should be here Madame Pomfrey!" she snapped. "Perhaps you should return to the Hospital Wing."

Poppy immediately turned on her heel and strode confidently out of the Teacher's Lounge. "I thought you'd never ask Delores." she told the 'Headmistress' crisply.

The temperature in the Teacher's Lounge seemed to drop a few degrees as Poppy slammed the door behind her. Every single teacher in the room narrowed their eyes on Umbridge. Even Severus looked murderous; Minerva could only assume that he felt it was his privilege and his privilege alone to infuriate Poppy Pomfrey. Completely oblivious to the hateful glares she was receiving, Delores shuffled into the room.

Every seat was taken. The looked she sent around the room clearly indicating that she expected someone to move and give her their seat, but no one did. When she zeroed her gaze in on Professors Sinistra and Vector, as the youngest, healthiest and least frightening individuals in the room, both women simply sent her a look of disdain before folding their arms and crossing their legs. Minerva didn't think they could've got the message across better it they'd conjured up a large neon sign that flashed the phrase 'We will not be moved!' above their heads. It was a joy to watch, really it was.

Delores turned and conjured up her own chair. Minerva fought off a wave of nausea at the chintzy, pink monstrosity that appeared. It even had frills. Severus was looking at it as though it were the single most disagreeable thing he had ever laid eyes on. Which, when you'd led a life like Snape's, was quite a claim really.

"_Hem hem_." Umbridge cleared her throat, while Minerva fought off the urge to wrap her hands around it and squeeze. "Now, I have called you all hear this morning to deal with a very serious issue that has been plaguing our school." she simpered. Realising that this was going to be yet another interminable speech, Minerva conjured up another cup of tea for herself. Across the room she saw Severus top up his coffee too.

"Students are running riot! They're not attending their classes, they're being blatantly disrespectful and frankly I think enough is enough!" Umbridge told them in a voice which Minerva assumed she thought sounded commanding. Really it came across as desperate.

"Oh I quite agree Professor Umbridge." Flitwick said brightly. "Indeed I do. We can't have that sort of behaviour from students."

"Thank you Filius." Umbridge said smugly, clearly thinking that the teachers were now on her side.

"But you see the thing is, Professor," Filius continued in the same carefree tone. "That none of _us_ have had that sort of behaviour from students." he smiled benignly.

"I beg your pardon?" Umbridge asked blankly.

Professor Vector, who was continuing to eye the chair upon which Delores with supreme distaste, spoke up next. "I personally haven't had a single student miss a class since November. Nor have I been forced to deduct points or give out detentions for any reason all year."

Umbridge scoffed. "Yes well, you take _Arithmancy_." she dismissed. Vector finally took her eyes off the hideous chair and looked directly at Umbridge.

"And just what do you mean by that?" she demanded with a steely glare.

Once again, Umbridge failed to notice. "I mean that the students taking your class are hardly representative of the average student, are they?" she said sweetly. "They're more bookish sorts."

"Like Miss Granger, you mean?" Vector shot back in the same saccharine tone. The smile vanished from Umbridge's face and a hard look came to her face.

"The less said about that girl, the better." Umbridge snarled. Minerva felt another wave of dislike crash against the shore that was Delores Umbridge. When you added that to the general loathing she already felt, Minerva wondered whether she'd be able to legally kill the woman soon.

"Am I led to believe that you have a problem with Hermione Granger, Delores?" she asked virulently. She may have been imagining it, but she could've sworn Pomona inched away from her upon hearing her tone. Not that Minerva McGonagall had a reputation for being overly protective of her favourite students or anything. Of course not.

"Oh the girl is insufferable. A complete know-it-all." Umbridge snapped, more to herself than to anyone else. "She keeps questioning the textbook as well. As though she knows better than the Ministry of Magic."

"May I ask which text you are using?" Severus asked with mild curiosity.

"Wilbert Slinkhard's." Umbridge informed him sanctimoniously.

Severus' only response was to close his eyes in a pained expression and respond, "I see." Since, whatever else she may think of him, Minerva understood the extensive knowledge Severus Snape held on both the Dark Arts and the Defences against them, she could only assume that such a response meant he both knew and loathed the text in question. Not wanting to continue the conversation, for fear that she'd be sacked before breakfast, Minerva cleared her throat.

She did so properly. Not a "_hem_" to be heard. The entire room turned to look at her.

"I believe we came here for a reason." she said curtly. "And unless I'm very much mistaken, that reason has been proved erroneous. Now are we finished, or not?"

They weren't. Delores, apparently feeling insecure about her control of Hogwarts, felt the need to repeat every word of every educational decree that had come out over the previous eight months. Throughout the lecture, Minerva felt her hand twitch to her wand innumerable times. She also saw her colleagues do the same. While this was more or less expected in the case of Severus (a reformed Death Eater) and Filius (an old duelling champion), when you saw Pomona Sprout itching to let off a good curse or two, you knew there was something very, very wrong happening.

**7:44 AM**

**-Hallway outside of Staff Room-**

When at last she escaped the Staff Room, Minerva was so grateful to finally be free of that godforsaken woman that she couldn't even work up the energy to complain when Professor Vector charmed the floor of the East hallway (which Umbridge would have to walk down) to resemble an ice rink whenever anyone walked upon it. Aside from being terribly amusing, it was a tricky charm to pull off and Vector, who'd always had problems in charms as a child, was utterly delighted when it worked properly.

And who was Minerva to deprive the woman of her accomplishment?

With a small sigh, Minerva headed for her office. If she'd had any choice in the matter she would've just headed to breakfast, but since that dratted meeting had gone on for about three times as long as Dumbledore's morning meetings used to take, she was running a bit late. Which meant she'd have to mark a few pieces of homework at breakfast if she intended to stay on schedule. And wasn't that just the most depressing thing?

**8:05 AM**

**-Great Hall-**

Despite the fact that summer was fast approaching, the fact that London was purportedly hotter than Barcelona, and the fact that the Daily Prophet reported a hosepipe ban in England ("So conjure your own!" it read. As if people couldn't work that out themselves), Hogwarts was shrouded in a springtime gloom, with a light rain drenching the castle. This resulted in the sky being so dreary that a few candles had to be lit in the Great Hall despite the enchanted ceiling.

Minerva was having the deeply uninteresting breakfast of porridge with salt, and she was marking Homework. It was a quite spectacularly dull way to spend one's morning.

That said, Hermione Granger had just achieved one-hundred and seventeen percent on her homework, while Lavender Brown had just defined Permanent-Hair-Curling Charms as an example of Self-Transfiguration. With an irritated cluck of her tongue, Minerva tossed Miss Brown's paper in the general direction of the others she'd already marked. It missed by quite a large degree and went skidding over to where Professors Snape and Sinistra were purposefully not-talking. Professor Snape stopped it casually with one finger. He quickly scanned it and smirked. Sinistra looked over his shoulder and also began to read through it. She looked slightly stunned.

"Surely the use of the word 'Charms' would have been a give away?" She commented disbelievingly. " I mean I can't say I'm an expert on Transfiguration but you'd sort of assume that having a spell expressly titled as a 'charm' would sort of make it obvious which lexicon it belonged in, wouldn't you?"

"Indeed." Snape agreed, still smirking. "Though you must forgive certain Gryffindor student's attention spans, I suppose."

Minerva flashed him a glare and summoned the paper back over to her, wishing with a passion that she'd accidentally thrown Hermione's homework their way. After all, she had started referencing some potions in her comparisons between Self-Transfiguration and other methods of appearance altering…

"Ooh, what's this?" Professor Sinistra asked quietly. So quietly that the Minerva could quite comfortably say she and Severus were the only one's who heard her. Minerva looked over to where Sinistra was looking, and saw Delores Umbridge on her feet and gesturing at the Gryffindor table.

Minerva frowned and leant over a bit to see where she was pointing. What she saw was Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley sitting eating their breakfast with a group of seventh years and trying valiantly to ignore her. Since Minerva, and indeed the entire staff, knew of Delores's patented response to Hermione Granger's questions during class, she could only imagine that Miss Granger was employing a similar method in response.

"Oh my." Sinistra breathed. "Do you suppose his eyes are supposed to be bulging out like that?" she asked in amusement. Snape smirked. Minerva had to agree that Ron Weasley was looking rather… infuriated. And since she had some pretty interesting experiences with the Weasley clan's anger, she could only begin to imagine the terrible things that were about to occur.

With that delightful thought in mind, she put down her quill and inched her chair over to get a better view. Snape pinned her with a look.

"They are in your house, shouldn't you be doing something about this?" he queried.

"About what?" Minerva replied under her breath. "They haven't done anything yet. As soon as they do, I will respond accordingly." she assured him.

Sinistra grinned. "You're going to point and laugh aren't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous dear, it's rude to point." Minerva quipped.

Of all the terribly explosive and destructive reactions she had pictured taking place, Minerva had certainly not expected Ron Weasley's only response to Umbridge's continued gesturing to be pulling his chair further into the table, thereby blocking Hermione from view. He didn't even look up at Delores as he did it. He just pulled his chair in and leant forwards on the table under the pretence of discussing Quidditch with Lee Jordan.

Delores finally seemed to realise that Weasley was going to make it more or less impossible for her to communicate with Hermione like that. And besides, she was attracting attention with her constant gesturing. Minerva felt a little disappointed by Delores's sudden moment of clarity. She so relished watching Umbridge make a fool of herself. Apparently she was not alone in enjoyment, as when Umbridge got to her feet and make a quiet, '_Hem hem_' she distinctly heard Sinistra let out a soft "Aww".

"Miss Granger? If you could come here a moment?" Umbridge asked in a dangerously sweet voice which carried across the hall.

Ron Weasley did send her a glare then. In Minerva's considered opinion it was glares like that which led to the phrase 'if looks could kill'. Hermione on the other hand, merely got to her feet with a hard look on her face and stalked up to the Teacher's table. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor, her robes billowed behind her so elegantly that it would have made Snape envious (had he ever been aware of his robes billowing), her shoulders were thrown back and her head held high. She looked, Minerva thought, like the very embodiment of the word 'dignity'.

She had, however, only gotten halfway towards the table when Ron Weasley also stood up and came after her. Given his considerably longer stride, he reached the Teacher's table at the exact same moment as her. While she stood with her hands by her sides and a look of resolute defiance glinting in her eyes, he stood beside her as her loyal bodyguard with a look of venomous hatred constantly directed at Delores Umbridge. It was really quite an intimidating sight. Minerva felt the barest flicker of a smile grace her face but she quickly disguised it.

"Yes Professor Umbridge?" Hermione asked politely, making it clear to everyone within earshot that she'd love nothing better than to curse the woman into oblivion.

"Mister Weasley?" Umbridge simpered. "I did not request your presence." she told him sweetly.

Ron raised his eyebrows, folded his arms and drew himself to full height (at least twice that of Delores's miniscule frame). "I know you didn't." he told her coldly.

"And yet you are still here?" she clarified, once again sounding nothing short of dangerously sugary.

Ron looked down at himself with an expression of surprise. "Well would you look at that! So I am." he exclaimed mockingly. Delores narrowed her eyes on him while an ephemeral smirk appeared on Hermione's face.

Even Minerva had to admire the sheer gall it took to stand there and talk to the Headmistress like that. It occurred to her that, had Fred and George Weasley still been there, she could have almost certainly looked over at the Gryffindor table and seen them beaming with pride at their little brother's insolence.

With a small scowl Delores cleared her throat again. ("_Hem hem_.") "Miss Granger I wanted to discuss your most recent paper with you." she said. "I could have sworn I told you how I felt about your ah… unusual take on the use of Counter-Jinxes." she said with a wide smile.

Hermione nodded once curtly. "You did." she agreed. Minerva now noted the smirk gracing Weasley's face. Interesting.

"Well Miss Granger, would you care to explain this essay?" Delores asked sweetly.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I would have thought that was obvious Professor Umbridge." she said shortly. "I disagreed with you." A ringing silence followed these words, and there wasn't a teacher there who was even pretending not to listen anymore. Hermione turned a little pink under the scrutiny but she held her ground nonetheless.

"You… disagreed?" Umbridge repeated slowly, as though the concept were somehow foreign to her.

"Yes." Hermione repeated. "You were working under Slinkhard's theory that Counter-jinxes were merely jinxes that had been renamed in order to make them more acceptable. Whilst I did address that opinion in the essay, I disagreed with it." she cocked her head slightly to one side, still looking Delores in the eye. "I also referenced fourteen separate _Ministry Approved_ texts which agreed with **my** take on the matter."

The way she used the phrase 'Ministry Approved' was akin to the way most might say 'Sent courtesy of Satan Himself to bring about the destruction of mankind' or 'Endorsed by Jerry Springer'. It suggested distaste, bordering on outright nausea at the very thought.

"I see." Delores bit out. "I'm going to have to ask you to re-write this essay Miss Granger." she told her sternly.

Hermione looked at Umbridge like she was an idiot. "No." she stated.

Delores swelled indignantly. "No?"

"No. I won't re-write it."

Huffing furiously, Delores glared at her. "Well, I think such blatant acts of disrespect-"

"What disrespect?" Weasley cut in aggressively. "You told us to do the homework, she did the homework and she did it on your bloody terms. If you didn't want her to do it, you shouldn't have set the homework, should you?"

Judging by his slight jolt and confused look he sent Hermione, Minerva thought it fairly obvious that he had just received a swift kick in the shins. Beside her, Sinistra was trying not to laugh.

Umbridge narrowed her eyes. Weasley sent her a bored look. Minerva was a little disappointed that Potter had Quidditch practise that morning, it would have been entertaining to see all three of them up there facing off against Delores. She might've cried.

"As I was saying," Umbridge continued in a brittle voice. "Flouncing your teacher's superior knowledge of Defence Against the Dark Arts," (Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously at that comment) "will not be tolerated from now on. I am a Ministry Trained official and as such I know better than you what is and is not beneficial to your education."

"I see, Professor." Hermione acknowledged in a level tone. "And do you also know better than the fourteen directly quoted sources?" she asked. "Or does the Ministry now know better than The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, Confronting the Faceless, The Dark Arts Outsmarted, Jinxes for the Jinxed, The Wizarding Compendium and the Definitive Guide to the Dark Arts and Defences Against them, published just two years ago by the very same Ministry of Magic to which you are referring?" she questioned the fuming Professor Umbridge sharply. "Because really, I think we should be told whose opinions we are and are not allowed to consider in the future."

Mister Weasley had given up the ghost completely and was now grinning broadly from ear to ear.

"Miss Granger." Professor Umbridge hissed quietly. "I realise that what with your fractured and disjointed education, confusion is to be expected. However you have had some suitable teachers over the years-"

"Ah yes." Hermione said scathingly, taking a step towards the Teachers' table so that she loomed threateningly over Delores. "Quirrel and Moody. Those were the two you felt were most suitable wasn't it Professor Umbridge? Hmm? Well seeing as how both of them attempted to slaughter one of my best friends in the name Lord Voldemort, I'll be forced to disagree with you on that particular subject."

Most of the teachers, including Minerva herself, had flinched at Hermione's use of the V-word. Delores herself had squawked with fright and pushed her chair away from Hermione. Hermione herself narrowed her eyes dangerously and leant a little closer to Delores.

"Is there a problem Professor?" she asked sweetly. "You see I thought that the only reason most people were afraid to use _Voldemort_'s name," she had enunciated the word deliberately. "Was out of fear He would come back." she smiled at Delores. "But both you and the Ministry have made it perfectly clear that you don't believe that could possibly happen. So what are you afraid of?"

Delores huffed slightly and flared her nostrils. "Well… well I never… I mean…"

Hermione straightened suddenly and placed a dismissive expression on her face. "My point, Headmistress, is that I disagree with you. Both on your assessment of my education and on your opinion of Counter-Jinxes. You may fail me if you wish, Professor Umbridge." she jutted her jaw out stubbornly. "But I'm not changing a word of it."

Minerva felt a rush of pride for her young student as she regarded each of the professors in turn, looking them all in the eye. "Good day Professors." she acknowledged curtly, before turning smartly on her heel and stalking out of the Great Hall, scattering a group of second year Slytherins as she went.

Lingering behind, with a smile on his face like the Cheshire Cat's, Ron Weasley smugly watched Delores turn an interesting puce colour. "You may tell Miss Granger." Delores told him threateningly as she heaved with furore. "That so long as I am Defence Against the Dark Arts, she will not be passing another piece of homework. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." Ron told her. "I'm sure that'll really keep her up a nights, when she has nothing but her straight O's in every other subject imaginable to comfort her." he commented, sending another grin at Delores before turning and following in Hermione's wake.

Minerva smirked to herself. She set about marking Neville Longbottom's homework and decided to mark him up a grade just for the effort he had clearly put in. "Isn't it lovely to start the day on a high-note?" she commented loudly. Smugness settled over her as she saw a vein in Umbridge's forehead looking fit to burst.

**8: 51 AM**

**-First Floor Corridor-**

Going over the lesson plan for her first class of the day, Minerva walked briskly towards her classroom. What few students there were parted before her like the Red Sea, so she didn't even have to slow down.

CRASH!

She froze in her tracks.

BANG!

Minerva turned and walked curiously towards the source of the disruption. She wasn't at all surprised to note that said disruption was emanating from the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom, nor was she surprised to see a group of second year Hufflepuffs watching gleefully, with no indication of going to get help.

She walked over and peered inside to be met with the sight of Peeves throwing tables, chairs and anything else he could get his hands onto at the wall above the teacher's desk. Stepping around a small dark-haired boy and into the classroom, Minerva was revolted to note a chintz cushion on Delores's chair. She supposed it was there to make her appear taller to her students. Idiot woman.

She glanced behind her and saw the Hufflepuff students giving her a look which suggested they thought she should be doing something about the disruption rather than simply watching. She waved her wand at the door, slamming it shut with a loud bang. Peeves stopped what he was doing and regarded her curiously.

"What are you doing Peeves?" she asked him pleasantly. Peeves pointed at the wall.

"Trying to make it burst." he stated. Minerva took a few steps forwards and saw a thick drainpipe behind all the broken plaster. It was placed at such an angle that, should it burst, it would have spewed its contents directly at Umbridge's desk and flooded the room. She had to give him points for originality, if not forward planning. After all, the plumbing system of Hogwarts was safeguarded against just such an occurrence.

"I see." she simply. "Peeves, I can tell you right now that that pipe will not break just by throwing things at it. However," she added. "I can burst it easily. And I will, so long as you do me a favour."

Peeves dropped the chair in his hand and floated over to McGonagall with a broad grin, looking as though he might salute her. "Yes Missus teacher Miss?"

McGonagall pointed at the cushion on Delores's chair. "Do something to get rid of that abomination. And make it inventive."

**9:00 AM**

**-Transfiguration Classroom-**

Minerva marched into her classroom just as the bell rang. She was met with the sight of Draco Malfoy very nearly reducing Daphne Greengrass to tears, apparently having taken her gemstone hair slide.

"Why Mister Malfoy," she commented sardonically as she swung the door closed behind her. "If you wanted a hair clip so badly you could have just told me."

A quick flick of her wand and Malfoy had flowing blonde hair down to his waist and an identical hair slide placed above his right ear, while Miss Greengrass had her own returned to her. The entire class gaped at him for a moment, before howling with laughter. Ignoring them all completely, Minerva strode up to her desk and pulled out a box of glass tumblers, placing them on her desk.

"That will do." she said curtly, silence fell instantly. Though, she noted with mild satisfaction, Draco Malfoy appeared to be on the brink of suffering an aneurysm. "Miss Greengrass, if you would come here and hand back the homework, thank you. Mister Nott if you would kindly distribute one of these glasses to each student. Mister Malfoy, come here a moment."

All three students did as they were told without a word. Daphne Greengrass smiled at her slightly when she came to get the homework however. McGonagall did not smile back, but then Daphne probably hadn't expected her to. Though Minerva would never admit it (for fear it would somehow get back to Severus), she actually found certain Slytherin students tolerable. Miss Greengrass and Mister Nott fell under that category.

Then, of course, there was the other category of Slytherins. The one she had to restrain herself from smacking. "Do stop pouting Mister Malfoy, I have better things to do that put up with immature sulking from you."

Malfoy glared at her. "You gave me girly hair." he spat.

Minerva sent him a withering look. "Yes. So I did." she agreed.

"The Headmistress will be hearing about this." he growled.

Minerva looked at him. "Will she really? Well then, that saves me a job. She can remove it then. Or would you prefer I do it now?" she asked him.

Malfoy's pale grey eyes flashed in annoyance and he began fingering the silver Inquisitorial Squad Badge on his chest. It was so deliciously satisfying watching him try to decide which course of action would be better for him: asking her for help or wandering around the castle with hair like that until such times as he could finally find a teacher willing to return him to normal.

With his jaw clenched so tightly that tendons in his throat jutted out, Malfoy looked her in the eye. "I would prefer you do it now, _Professor_." he ground out.

"Was that a request?" Minerva asked him innocently.

Malfoy's eyes flashed once more. He was quite obviously dying to say something that you have landed his grandchildren in detention, but he managed to restrain himself. Barely. "Please, would you remove the spell you placed on my hair, Professor McGonagall." he managed, through gritted teeth.

Minerva waved her wand, removing the spell with ease and making Malfoy breath a sigh of relief. Before he could return to his seat she sent him a hard look. "Mister Malfoy I understand that you think that new badge of yours puts you higher up on the food chain, as it were, than other students. And in many ways," she conceded. "You are absolutely right. But let us make one thing perfectly clear. If you ever behave like that in my classroom again, there will be consequences. And I don't just mean a new hairstyle. Are we clear?" she asked harshly.

Malfoy looked a little taken aback by her tone but he nodded all the same. Or rather, he nervously moved his head up and down, with his eyes wide and stunned. "Good." she acknowledged. "Return to your seat." Malfoy hastily did so.

Getting to her feet, Minerva strode to the front of the class, plucking a glass from the box Nott had left on her desk as she went. "Today we will be Transfiguring glasses into mice and then mice into teacups. The transformation of inanimate objects into living creatures is distinctly more difficult than the other way around. Also, the transformation of a transfigured object into something other than it's original form can result in complications."

She waved her wand at the glass which turned instantly into a tiny white mouse. She placed the struggling mouse on a podium at the front of class. "Like most transfigurations, the change from mouse to teacup should be instantaneous. If your creature has only partially transformed it will not 'finish itself off'." Minerva sent a swift look around the room to see if everyone was paying attention. She noticed that Pansy Parkinson quite certainly was not, but supposed that so long as she didn't disrupt class then all she was doing was setting herself up for humiliation later.

"Since you will be responsible for both transfigurations you must be especially aware of the current state of the creature, while still retaining knowledge of it's previous form in order for the spell to work correctly.." Parkinson began a whispered conversation with Millicent Bulstrode, gesturing to something underneath the table. With a slightly harder voice, McGonagall continued. "You must, for example, keep an image of the creature even as you are actively transforming it."

Pansy pointed between what McGonagall could only assume was a magazine and Daphne Greengrass before shaking with silent laughter. McGonagall stopped her speech, looked directly at Pansy Parkinson and loudly announced,

"Miss Parkinson if you don't stop that brainless twittering of yours and pay attention, I shall not only give you a week's detention but I shall also demonstrate the Transfiguration of living things into inanimate objects on your person. It's up to you." Parkinson looked shell-shocked and quickly began shoving the magazine away. As an afterthought, Minerva sent the magazine flying over to her desk. "And you may have that back at the end of class." she added coldly.

The entire class was now sitting bolt upright and paying close attention, clearly understanding that she was not in a lenient mood whether they had Umbridge on their side or not. She waved her wand at the mouse on the podium, turning it into a clean white porcelain teacup. A few people looked impressed.

"Begin." she ordered.

**9:46 AM**

**-Transfiguration Classroom-**

"P-professor McGonagall?" a nervous voice stuttered.

"Miss Parkinson."

"Can I have my m-magazine back now?"

Without so much as looking up from the box of teacups now in front of her, Minerva reached into her desk, extracted a copy of Witch Weekly which had none other than Harry Potter on the cover, and tossed it at Pansy. "If you are ever so foolish as to start reading material of that sort in my classroom again Miss Parkinson, do not doubt that I what I do to you will outshine Mister Malfoy's ferret-transformation last year by a significant amount." she said, finally looking up. Parkinson squeaked slightly but didn't respond. "You may go."

She continued grading the teacups she saw in front of her without much concern as to whether Parkinson would do as instructed or not. She knew she would. For a girl that strutted around as much as she did, she was surprisingly cowardly.

"Professor McGonagall?" a marginally more confident voice enquired politely. Minerva did look up this time, and met her questioner in the eye. She always acknowledged those students she respected, and she had little time for teachers who didn't.

"Miss Greengrass." she greeted politely. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh. Er… yes. I wanted to hand this in, first of all." she held out a small white teacup which Minerva took and examined. It was flawless. It even had a cheerful yellow diamond pattern on it.

"Excellent work Miss Greengrass." Minerva congratulated her. "Though I'm curious as to why you didn't give it to Mister Goyle when he collected everyone else's." Daphne murmured something which Minerva didn't quite catch and turned slightly pink. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Daphne looked humiliated but still said clearly, "I wasn't happy with the pattern."

Minerva fought off a smile and nodded. "Very well. Was there something else?"

"Er…" Daphne nodded and looked at the floor awkwardly. Minerva straightened and regarded her in silence. "I-I wanted to thank you. For getting Malfoy to give me back my hair slide." she fingered the silver slid with it's intricately patterned blue gemstones. "He's been completely insufferable lately and… It… my best friend gave it to me shortly before she moved away. It means a lot to me. So… thank you."

Minerva nodded. "I'm not in the business of letting students have their belongings stolen in my class, Miss Greengrass, no matter what the personal value of the object in question."

"I know." Daphne said with a small smile. "And uh… that's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to thank you for uh… well… _that_, I suppose."

Minerva was confused. And it wasn't very often that happened. "I beg your pardon?"

Daphne let out a low breath and finally raised her gaze to meet Minerva's. "Look, Professor, I know that… I know that the Dark lo…" she paused, closed her eyes and set her jaw. "That V-_Voldemort_, is back. And I know that a lot of people are of the opinion that basically all of Slytherin house is… I don't know… thrilled beyond compare at the thought or something."

Minerva looked at her carefully. "You said his name." she commented quietly. A flash of anger appeared in Daphne's eyes. Though, Minerva noted, it quite certainly wasn't directed at her.

"He's not _my_ lord." Daphne stated resolutely. "And he never will be." Minerva noted the bitterness in her voice and made a note to look into Ms Greengrass' family background. "Anyway… I uh… I also know that you in particular don't have a lot of reason to treat us fairly. But you do. Even when other teachers are treating us all like little Death Eaters in training or something, you're treating us fairly. It's more than most of us could expect. And… well, I wanted to thank you."

Minerva nodded slowly, allowing one of her rare smiles to remain on her lips this time. "You are quite welcome Miss Greengrass."

They smiled understandingly at each other for a moment, before they were rather rudely interrupted by Justin Finch-Fletchley, panting and red-faced at the door. "Professor Mc… (pant)… McGonagall?"

"Yes?" Minerva snapped.

"Professor Umbridge wants to see you. In the Hospital Wing. She said it was urgent."

"Thank you Mister Finch-Fletchley. You may go." she said dismissively. He was more than willing to do so by the looks of things.

Daphne started leaving but paused in the doorway, looking back as Minerva continued grading the teacups. "Er… Professor?" she queried.

"Hmm?" Minerva looked up and saw Daphne indicate Justin's retreating form as he hurried down the corridor. "Oh. Fear not, Miss Greengrass. I will attend to the Headmistress's 'urgent' matter just as soon as I possibly can. Once I've finished marking these, and perhaps looked through some post. Now hurry along."

Grinning with incredulous delight, Daphne did as instructed.

**9:59 AM**

**-Hospital Wing-**

"Professor McGonagall!" Umbridge huffed loudly as Minerva enter the Hospital Wing. "I sent for you twenty minutes ago!" she practically screamed. Minerva noted that her hair was in disarray, and a sheen of sweat covered her face. She also noted that behind Umbridge, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Kenneth Towler were looking vindictively smug while simultaneously wary of Minerva herself.

"Yes I know." she responded blithely, supremely unaffected by Delores's sour glare. "I was unavoidably detained." _By a fabulous two-for-one offer on all Sorcière Charmante Beauty items and a free handbag with Gladrags purchases over fifty galleons_, she added silently. "How may I help you?" she asked as she drew level with the group.

It was only then that Minerva noticed Lee Jordan was unconscious on one of the beds. She stared at him for a moment, concerned. Then she realised that Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen and that none of his friends looked in the least bit upset. Her concern was swiftly replaced with mild annoyance.

"Your students are ill, Minerva!" Umbridge cried, gesturing ridiculously as she did so. "These four have been… well _her_," she pointed at Angelina Johnson, who sent her a disdainful glare in response. "She hasn't attended a single one of my classes for more than five minutes in the past four months! And those two are hardly any better." she indicated Alicia and Kenneth. "And as for him!" she pointed at Lee Jordan. "He hasn't even made it over the threshold for the past two weeks!"

Minerva sent Umbridge a dangerous look. "Are you implying that my students health and well-being is secondary to their participation in your class?" she asked in a measured sort of way.

"No I am not, it's just… well surely they can't all be sick!" she cried. "They can't just faint on cue! They must be faking it or something!"

"Why don't we check?" Minerva asked dryly, taking two long strides over to Lee Jordan's bed and leaning down towards his ear. "Mister Jordan? Mister Jordan! Lee Jordan if you don't sit upright this instant you are I will force you to become Professor Snape's Personal Cauldron Scrubber until the end of your days!" she snapped. Lee remained stationary. Minerva stood upright again. "Well I'm no Healer, but I'd say he was unconscious." she commented.

From behind her Alicia Spinnet giggled into her hand while Angelina snorted openly. Delores glared a bit. "So there's nothing you can do?" she asked sharply.

Minerva sent her a withering look. "Well apparently not." she said simply. "However I would like to stay here and comfort my students about their friend's illness." she told the Headmistress.

Huffing again, Delores turned and waddled out. The second the door closed behind her, Kenneth Towler attempted to say something. Minerva held up her hand for silence, waiting a full minute after Delores's departure before taking her hand down. Her students eyed her warily as she cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door. She turned back to face them.

"For God's sake, someone give him the other end of that Fancy already." she snapped, indicating Lee Jordan. All three students looked a little startled.

"You ah… you know about…?" Angelina started nervously.

"Fainting Fancies? Yes I do. And Fever Fudge, and Puking Pastilles, and the entire Skiving Snack-boxes range. Now hurry up and revive him." she demanded impatiently. Alicia moved to do as instructed, placing half of a brightly coloured tablet into Lee's mouth.

He woke up instantly, looking rather pleased with himself. At least he was until he laid eyes on Minerva. "Uh-oh." he breathed.

"Quite." Minerva agreed with him, in a manner which was disconcertingly reminiscent of Professor Snape. "Now. Let us make one thing absolutely clear." Minerva said dangerously, moving to the bottom of Lee's bed and regarding the four students. "I will not stand for this sort of childishness and idiocy from my students. I simply will not do it, do you understand?" she fumed. "I will not stand idly by and let this sort of asininity run rampant in Gryffindor so long as I am Head of House. No; so long as I draw _breath_! Do you hear me?"

A general murmur of agreement ran through the four as they stared at the ground uncomfortably. "Good." Minerva snapped. "So from now on, take it in turns to fall ill and have the decency to stay in class long enough to drive the woman insane." Four heads snapped up to look at her in amazement. Minerva hardly noticed. She began pacing. "I mean honestly, the least you could do is stand your ground for a few hours a week. Ask her difficult questions or… ask her moronic questions, or insult her, or 'accidentally' spill destructive potions out of your bag in her classroom, or turn up for class in sandwich-board that says 'Umbridge is an idiot! Gryffindors against toads!' while ringing a bell. I mean honest to God, you could at least be inventive!" she stopped pacing and turned back to the four of them. "Don't get me wrong, I'm sure that Fred and George are greatly enjoying the notoriety their products are now gaining, but do you honestly think they would appreciate this utter lack of originality?" she demanded.

"Professor?" Lee asked, awestruck. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I am not the one who has recently fainted, Mister Jordan." she told him coolly. "Now get to the library all of you. Skiving Snack-box or no, you will be using this time constructively. You will also be keeping up to date with all of your Defence Against the Dark Arts work. I will not have any of my seventh years leaving that woman's class with anything less than "Exceeds Expectations" level NEWTS. Move along now. All of you. And don't expect me to get you out of trouble again!" she snapped.

All four left the room looking thunderstruck. Minerva glared after them, thoroughly annoyed.

**10:30 AM (morning break)**

**- Staff Room-**

Minerva opened the door to the staff room, expecting to see a pot of tea and, if she was lucky, some ginger newts. She was not expecting to see Sybill Trelawney sitting on Severus Snape's lap, singing about 'Raindrops on Roses and whiskers on kittens' while attempting to punctuate each line with kiss on one of his cheeks. However Minerva firmly believed that sometimes the unexpected could be better than what had gone before… Thought's of blackmail danced merrily through her head as she watched the scene unfold gleefully.

"Get off me you daft woman!" Snape hissed, trying to shove Trelawney off.

"GIRLS IN WHITE DRESSES WITH BLUE SATIN SASHES-"

"Don't make me jinx you, you drunken loon!"

"SNOWFLAKES THAT STAY ON MY NOSE AND EYELASHES!"

"I can hurt you, you know!"

"SILVER WHITE WINTERS THAT MELT INTO SPRINGS-"

"For the love of… I'm a Death Eater you know! I could curse you into a cationic state without so much as blinking, you inebriated nutcase!"

"THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVOURITE THINGS!"

Minerva, who was trying so hard not to cackle that she feared she may have cracked a rib, leant against the doorframe and tapped her foot loudly against the floor. Trelawney stopped her valiant attempts to drool over Severus and looked over towards where she stood, smiling benignly. Minerva noted with some delight that Severus had paled to an ashen grey colour and was looking quite thoroughly mortified at having been caught in such a compromising position. He'd be much more agreeable now, Minerva thought delightedly.

"Hello Minerva!" Sybill greeted as Minerva closed the door behind her. "Ginger Newt? (hic)"

"Why thank you Sybill." she agreed. As Trelawney scrambled to her feet to fetch her a Ginger Newts, Minerva turned and pointed her wand at the door. Her Patronus (Scottish Wild Cat, naturally) moved swiftly for the Hospital Wing to inform Poppy of Sybill's compromising condition.

With that done, Minerva took a seat next to Severus to save him the worry that Sybill would take that seat. He sent her a look of pitiful gratitude. Minerva could hardly blame him. Lord Voldemort was one thing, but an amorous Trelawney was another entirely.

"Here you go." Sybill passed her a box of Ginger Newts which Minerva took happily. "You're looking lovely Minerva. Blue really is your colour!"

Minerva glanced down at her emerald green and black outfit and raised a brow at Severus. He shook his head despairingly as if to say 'I know, I know'. "Er… thank you Sybill."

A burst of green flames appeared in the fireplace, shortly followed by a bottle filled with a violet concoction of Madam Pomfrey's own devising. One which Minerva knew (from just one mild experience. Just the one, you understand) sent the patient into a deep sleep and ridded the body of all alcohol within the hour. Snape looked at it as though it were the Messiah.

"Sybill? Would you be a dear and pass me that bottle out of the fireplace?" Minerva asked sweetly. Trelawney did as requested and hurried back over, holding it out like a Cocker Spaniel expecting a treat. "Thank you. Would you do me a favour and try some? I ah… want to make sure it tastes all right."

"Ooh goodie!" Trelawney said in an astoundingly childlike manner, readily flipping the cap off and began glugging it down.

Minerva watched with mild interest as Sybill withered and landed in a seeming puddle on the opposite couch. Sybil's hair was spread around her head like an ironic halo, while drool leaked out of her partially open mouth and soft snores emanated from her. "Shouldn't we do something about that?" Minerva asked mildly as she prepared herself some tea.

"Absolutely." Severus agreed, dragging a hand down his face. "Put up a warning sign for the next poor bastard and run like hell."

Minerva chuckled and took a seat. "Now, we do have one slight problem Severus. I have just witnessed what I personally consider to be one of the most entertaining examples of drunken behaviour known to man." Snape glared dangerously at her. "Not to mention you screaming 'I'm a Death Eater you know' at the top of your lungs."

It was quite interesting to see just how far Snape's eyes could actually widen. "Oh good lord. I didn't, did I?"

"You did." Minerva assured him. "Now. As understandable as your behaviour was, I am caught with a bit of a conundrum as to whether I should share this little episode with the rest of the staff. Professor Sinistra, for example, would almost certainly be interested to hear of it."

Had she not been perfectly aware of the slightly ambiguous relationship between Professors Snape and Sinistra, she was almost positive that the look of horror he now sported would be more than enough to lay her doubts to rest. With only the slightest hint of abject terror Severus responded. "You wouldn't." he told her.

Minerva smiled graciously. "Oh. I would." she sipped her tea and allowed that to sink in. "However, I first of all have to deal with several little problems of mine. All of which you can help me with, funnily enough." she told him.

A look of incredulity settled on Snape's face. "I don't believe this. You're blackmailing me." he said with disbelief.

Minerva adopted an affronted look. "Blackmail is an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as extortion. So, do we have a deal?"

Snape's left eye appeared to be twitching. "How is it that you weren't placed in Slytherin?" he asked her in a brittle voice.

"My mother was a muggle." she dismissed easily, noticing that Snape appeared to flinch upon this announcement though apparently not at her. Interesting. "Anyway, I need two things from you. First of all, I need an alibi. I have someone I wish to meet in London this evening and I don't want the Headmistress knowing about it."

Snape was on his feet in an instant. "You don't mean…?"

Minerva caught his meaning. "I haven't the faintest idea where Dumbledore is, if I did I would tell you. No. This is completely unrelated to the Order, the Dark Lord, or indeed, Delores Umbridge. However I'd like to keep it from her all the same. I believe that if questioned about my whereabouts, you would be one of the few staff members she would trust not to cover for me. Agreed?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Agreed. Anything else?"

Minerva smiled. "Information. I want to know about Daphne Greengrass. Or, more to the point, what she has against You-Know-Who and why."

Whatever Severus had been expecting, that obviously wasn't it. And whatever Minerva had been expecting, it certainly wasn't for Severus to tell her that it wasn't his position to tell her.

"What do you mean it's not your position?" she snapped. "You're her head of House. If it isn't your position, then who's is it?"

Severus shrugged. "I'd have to say it was hers." he told her lightly. "Anything you want to know about her, I'd be more than willing to share." he took his seat once more, carefully side-stepping Trelawney who had rolled over in her sleep. "She's an excellent Potions student. Nothing spectacular, but definitely above average. Her marks in most other classes are fairly good as well, with the rather noticeable exception of Arithmancy which she can't seem to get her head around to save herself. She's relatively well liked amongst older students, if not those in her actual year. I've seen her associating with Susan Bones as well, but as they're not in the same House it's rather disjointed."

Minerva started a little. "Why isn't she liked in her own year if the older students liked her?" she asked in confusion. "I was rather led to believe that liking someone wasn't dependant on age."

Snape smiled a bit ruefully. "Ah yes. Well. The older students are unaffected by the fifth year's internal politics and therefore free to like her in peace. Pansy Parkinson has, however, seen to it that those in her own year have nothing to do with the girl. With the exception of Theodore Nott, who doesn't seem to care much either way."

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose and took a seat on the edge of the couch. "Could you explain to me why Miss Parkinson as felt the need to do this?" she asked, raising her tea to her lips once more like a lifeline.

Severus shrugged a bit. "I believe Miss Greengrass insulted her on the train in First Year. Since then Miss Parkinson has been creating quite a few reasons to alienate her. The latest, I believe, is that she's in love with Harry Potter."

Minerva nearly choked on her tea. "You're joking, right?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I most certainly am not. I was there when it happened. Draco was providing a rather," he smirked. "_Entertaining_, analysis of Potter's mental state at the Slytherin dinner table. Miss Greengrass commented that Potter wouldn't say anything about the Dark Lord's unless he thought it was true. Miss Parkinson asked the immortal question, 'So you're in love with Harry Potter are you?' to which Miss Greengrass responded with a deeply sarcastic yes. Parkinson, apparently unable to grasp the concept of sarcasm, seized it as evidence."

Minerva thought back to her earlier class, Parkinson's inane giggling and gesturing with that particular issue of Witch Weekly. It certainly explained a lot. "What about Malfoy?" she asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Draco Malfoy. She said he's been insufferable lately. I was wondering if there was any particular reason." Minerva clarified. Severus wore an expression which stated quite clearly that he didn't want to tell her something. "Severus I could get Professor Sinistra to ask you." she reminded him. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh all right. This is pure speculation mind you. Not definitive in any way." he made special note. Minerva nodded. He sighed. "All right. Pansy was starting to let up on Miss Greengrass. I think she was even starting to like her. She's quite funny once you get onto her level. Very dark humour." Minerva was slightly surprised by that, but she didn't comment. "Anyway, after the summer when Greengrass came back she looked… ah… different."

"She'd grown up." Minerva clarified, for the clearly uncomfortable man. Why it was hard to say 'she got prettier' was quite beyond Minerva, but for most men it seemed to be.

"Indeed. And it is my understanding that Mister Malfoy began to notice that fact as well. It was then that he began making life more difficult for her. Miss Parkinson, noticing the increased attention she was receiving, began to torment her once again." he told he with very little emotion. It was hard to tell if he actually had any opinion on the subject at all.

Minerva sighed. She supposed it made sense, in a twisted sort of way. "So Mal… er… Draco, would have seen Miss Parkinson's continued ill will towards Miss Greengrass, felt guilty about his attraction towards her and increased his harassment. Miss Parkinson would have seen this as more attention, leading her jealousy to increase, Mister Malfoy's guilt to increase and so on and so forth until Daphne's head explodes."

"Quite." Snape agreed.

"Lovely. Well. I suppose I can keep an eye on her. Anything else you'd recommend?" she asked him carefully. It was only now that the conversation seemed to be nearing it's end that Snape was regarding her in that scrutinising, analytical manner he occasionally had. It made her uncomfortable. "Severus?" she prompted.

"Nothing really. May I ask why the sudden interest in-"

A clear and loud bell rang out, signalling the end of the morning break. And never before had the phrase 'saved by the bell' had more meaning for her. She made a helpless gesture at Severus and got to here feet. She swept out of the room without a backwards glance.

**11:00 AM**

**- Transfiguration Classroom -**

It was all Minerva could do not to sigh with contentment as she entered her classroom and found eight Fifth year Gryffindor Students waiting patiently and (more importantly) quietly for her. She made her way to her desk and pulled out a box of pincushions and the pile of homework she'd been marking at breakfast before turning to face her class.

"We are continuing our work from last session. Mister Potter hand out the homework from last time, Miss Brown hand out these pincushions. Extra marks will be awarded if you manage to transfigure your pincushion within the first fifteen minutes. Begin."

All students hurried to do as instructed, as she took a seat behind her desk and observed patiently. It spoke volumes about the current state of Hogwarts that this was the most calming time she'd had all morning.

"Ah. Ninety whole Delores-free minutes. Pure bliss." she murmured.

"What was that Professor?" Harry Potter queried as he picked up the homework off her desk. Minerva hurried to look stern.

"Nothing Potter. Get a move on."

He did as instructed, but she was sure she saw a glimmer of a knowing smile cross his face. Damn. She was going to have to get herself a gag…


	2. Noon

**Author's Note:** Sorry, sorry, sorry! I'd tell you why it took so long but you wouldn't care. Anyone who is spectacularly interested in my reason for not updating can contact me and I'll tell them. Otherwise, here's the update. Next one shouldn't take nearly as long. (Again: I am very sorry.)

* * *

**12:32PM  
****- Great Hall -**

"Guess what happened to Delores?" Pomona asked gleefully as she took her seat.

"Unless it was painful, I don't want to know." Snape commented without even looking up from his meal. Minerva was inclined to agree. She was eating a large plate of delectable lasagne and she didn't want Delores Umbridge ruining that for her without even being there. The woman should at least have to be present before being irritating.

"Well… she was publicly humiliated. Does that count?"

Snape exchanged a look with Minerva. Both hesitated a few moments before surrendering and looking up at Professor Sprout. "All right," Minerva conceded. "What happened?"

"Our resident poltergeist burst a sewage line above her head during the Hufflepuff Fourth year's lesson." Pomona informed them, clearly expecting a positive response.

Minerva's only response was a quiet "Hmm" before she turned back to her lunch. Severus seemed to take a more academic approach. He placed his knife and fork down on his plate, next to his steak pie and looked thoughtfully at Professor Sprout. "Burst? How ever did he manage that I wonder?" he asked carefully.

Pomona shrugged indifferently. "Threw things at the wall until it was exposed and then threw a chair leg at it during her lesson." she said simply. "Quite ingenious really. Oh is that fresh lasagne?"

"No I mean… the plumbing system in Hogwarts, with the exception of Myrtle's bathroom, is safeguarded. How did he manage it? He would have needed a teacher to let down the protective-"

Minerva choked on her lasagne. Trust Snape to be the only other teacher in the building to have paid any attention to Hogwarts; A History. Since Minerva McGonagall was most certainly not the type of person to choke on her lasagne, it tended to call the attention of everyone in the near vicinity when she did. Both Severus and Pomona turned to regard her at once, with their eyebrows already raised.

"Something you'd like to share Minerva?" Pomona asked cheekily.

Minerva's only response was a swift glare. Severus opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a high-pitched cackle from above. It was one of the few times Minerva found herself feeling intensely grateful for the fact that Hogwarts had a resident Poltergeist. Not the only time, but certainly one of the few.

Peeves swept into the room through the open oak doors, his bell-covered hat jingling merrily. The first years who had been responsible for the open door cringed visibly, clearly expecting to get blamed for whatever chaos was about to ensue. They were probably right. First years had a certain propensity to get the blame for such things, while older students in the same position were looked on as victims in the entire affair. Such was life, Minerva supposed. After all, in a few short months the students in question would be the very ones to persecute the first years.

The Poltergeist, however, was what was drawing most of Minerva's attention. He held in his hands Delores's Glorified Booster Seat (or 'Intimidation Aid' or whatever the Ministry Approved term for the hideous little thing was). The cushion was distinctly more stuffed than it had been last time Minerva had spotted her. It was also releasing thick green smoke at an alarming rate. "Well I told him to be inventive." she murmured.

"What was that?" Pomona asked her.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Minerva didn't get the chance to respond. Peeves dropped the cushion, sending it flying up the centre of the Great Hall. It came to halt directly under the Headmistress's chair, where thick viridian smoke continued to billow out of it ominously. Minerva had spent enough time around Bill and Charlie Weasley to know what this meant, and actually found herself silently thanking God for the fact that Fred and George had considered it 'cliché'.

As Peeves flew off cackling madly, several things happened at once. Auriga Sinistra entered the hall via the antechamber, Pomona Sprout leant in to inspect the stuffed cushion more closely, and Minerva raised her wand, muttering a quick "Protego" beneath her breath while Professor Snape did the same by her side. Less than a second later, the cushion detonated. Or rather, the Leaping Lunch potion inside the cushion detonated.

Leaping Lunch was a Zonko's product. More specifically, it was a mercifully _forgotten_ Zonko's product which had not been popular in years. The product tagline claimed it was concocted from "The Stuff That Makes Jumping Beans Jump!" which, when translated into everyday application, meant it made any and all food stuffs it came in contact with bounce around the room with horrifying enthusiasm. Minerva was willing to bet good money Peeves had mixed some other things in there with it as well.

Thick green smoke flooded the room, until it was completely impossible to see more than three centimetres in front of one's face; which was causing enough panic as it was (_"Oh no! I've gone blind!" "You haven't gone blind you idiot, we're being attacked by the military." "Oh that's all… wait. What? OH GOD WE'RE BEING ATTACKED BY THE MILITARY!" "Teehee. Hufflepuffs are so gullible…" "He was in Slytherin." "He was?" "Yep, seventh year." "Oh dear lord, the future of the Wizarding world is doomed."_) The very instant the concoction came in contact with the food, however, things got infinitely worse…

"Argh!"

"Argh!"

"Professor!"

"What is tha- ARGH!"

"Oh God!"

"What's happening?"

"Help!"

Squelching sounds, slapping sounds, thumping sounds and cries of alarm were immediately heard throughout the Great Hall as the children's food began attacking them. Minerva heard her lasagne smacking against her Shield Charm but couldn't see a thing. Why on Earth a Shield Charm couldn't keep thick green smoke out when it easily kept rabid lasagne out was a question she resolved to ponder at a later date.

Severus yelled out for the students to calm themselves, but between their shock at the dense gas and their anger with the food that was hurling itself at their persons, few students seemed to listen to him. They apparently decided that increased hostility towards their classmates for allegedly throwing food at them was an altogether more productive use of their time. As was more or less expected. People did have a tendency to attack each other under such circumstances, after all. It was all quite wearisome.

"Hey! Don't throw your food at me you prat!"

"I didn't- HEY! Don't throw that at me!"

And so began the suspicion. Minerva groaned. It happened every time someone released one of those bloody things. Everyone assumed it was their friends and enemies lobbing food at them. Within a few minutes…

"Gah! I'll teach you to throw things at me you little twerp! _Fernunculus!_"

"_Densaugeo!_"

"_Rictusempra!_"

When in doubt, students at a magical school had a slight inclination to throw jinxes around with careless abandon. Though how on Earth they intended the jinxes to hit home in a room zero visibility was quite beyond Minerva.

"Don't you dare throw that… URGH! _Avis!_"

"Oh great." Snape muttered darkly beside her. "There weren't enough curses and foodstuffs flying through the air, now some idiot had to conjure birds."

Yelps of fear, surprise and annoyance were heard throughout the Great Hall along with cries of "What's happening?" "Are we under attack?" and, Minerva's personal favourite, "Oh God it's You-Know-Who!" Dumbledore and Harry Potter's word wasn't enough to convince them but a flying pasta sauce left the good students of Hogwarts utterly convinced that Lord Voldemort was after them. Bizarre, it was truly bizarre.

Minerva pushed out her chair sharply and attempted to get to her feet, hearing Snape do the same beside her. Her intention was to calm and soothe her students before escorting them out of the Great Hall in an organised manner. Regrettably, her left foot came down firmly on top of something pulpous. Her foot slipped out from under her and she crashed to the floor with a bang.

There was, however, some level of compensation. On her right, Severus Snape did exactly the same. Ha. Take that Teacher Dignity.

A loud, feminine 'Oomph' made it clear that Severus had landed on top of someone, rather than just the floor. Minerva smirked to herself, even as her posterior began to throb in pain after having connected solidly with the flagstone. Severus had made a bigger prat out of himself than she had out of herself. So ha.

"Who is that?" Auriga asked nervously.

"Who's who?" Minerva queried, clueless as to what was going on.

"Who's on top of me?"

"That would be me." Severus clarified huffily, obviously trying to return to his feet and failing quite spectacularly. Auriga made a startled noise and also began trying to clamour to her feet. A loud bang indicated that both had gone crashing to the floor once again. Minerva swore under her breath, cursing her luck. If Snape and Sinistra were being ridiculous, then she should at least be able to _see_ it, surely. It was one of the joys of working at Hogwarts. Muttering to herself vehemently about the unfairness of life in general, Minerva pulled herself upright. Over the din currently emanating from the confused students, she heard the sounds of more meals thudding against her Shield Charm.

The smoke had yet to dissipate, which at least clarified what Peeves had done to the Leaping Lunch Potion. Usually it was absorbed by the food, but the Poltergeist had apparently decided that making everyone practically blind would be more amusing. Finally getting herself into a standing position, Minerva cast a quick cleaning spell on her robes to remove anything she may have landed in on the floor. Beside her, Snape and Sinistra were still attempting to get up, 'attempting' being the operative word (_"Get off of my legs you overgrown-bat!" "Would you stay still you twit?" "Urgh! Just get off me you bastard!"_).

Annoyed, Minerva pointed her wand at her throat, thinking 'Sonorus'.

"BE SILENT! ALL OF YOU!" she bellowed, in a magically magnified voice. The effect was instantaneous; everyone shut up and the only remaining noise was that of the bouncing food and the various conjured creatures around the room. She returned her voice to the normal level, feeling her point had been made. "Wands away, at once! All of you move slowly towards the doors and attempt to keep food, animals and smoke in the Great Hall. Remain in the Entrance Hall until I say otherwise! Now!"

Minerva heard the sounds of students shuffling steadily towards the exit. It occurred to her that she was very grateful Fred and George Weasley had left, as they almost certainly would have locked the doors.

The teachers, for their part, were shuffling towards the antechamber. "Professor Sprout? Could you help me in the Entrance Hall?" Minerva asked blindly, hoping she'd directed the question in the general direction of the Herbology teacher.

"Of course Minerva." Pomona responded, indicating that Minerva had been successful. Now they only had to reach the Entrance Hall in one piece.

As a flock of penguins waddled past her feet, Minerva realise it might be easier said than done.

**12:42 PM  
****- Entrance Hall-**

It took the two of them nearly five whole minutes to navigate their way across the Great Hall. What with the innumerable chairs littering the floor, the indescribable chaos flying around their heads and the occasional student found lurking behind in hopes of causing more mayhem. Minerva found herself quickly redefining the word 'melee' in her mind, by the time she finally emerged in the Entrance Hall.

She also sincerely hoped she looked more professional that Pomona did. The Herbology teacher's hair was a wild mess about her face while something resembling pesto sauce dripped down her cheek and a fair amount of gravy had taken up residence on her robes. At least Minerva knew her hair was still in place and that she didn't have any food over her. God Bless Shield Charms, she thought as she regarded the hundred or so students around her that had been covered from head-to-toe with their lunch.

"Harper! Get over here!" she snapped. Charlie Harper, the little twerp responsible for her pathetically small amount of sleep the previous night, stood practically to attention and scurried over to her.

"Yes Professor McGonagall?" he asked nervously.

Minerva nodded at the Great Hall. "Would you go and fetch our dear Headmistress and ask her to take care of that?" she asked dryly. "I doubt we have the authority." she added. Harper grinned, nodded, and took off at once, leaping the stairs two at a time.

The students around the Hall were looking shell-shocked. Most were staring at the (still rattling and rather ominous sounding) Great Hall as though it were a ticking bomb. Minerva found it oddly amusing that they were looking at it that way _after_ the bomb, as it were, had already blown. She exchanged a significant look with Pomona and the two of them inched closer together casually.

"You may all return to your dormitories to change your robes and clean up!" Pomona called to group. "But if even one of you misses your afternoon classes you'll be in detention for a week and lose one hundred points, do you hear me?"

A general murmur of agreement ran through the crowd before they began to disperse. Minerva tried not to roll her eyes, as Draco Malfoy stared blatantly at Daphne Greengrass's pumpkin-juice-soaked robes. She tried not to curse anyone was she saw Pansy Parkinson glare at him, glare at Greengrass, and then come up with some insult or another that made Daphne blush.

"Stop your dallying Miss Parkinson!" she snapped. "Ten points from Slytherin for holding up the school." Parkinson glared some more but did as instructed, scurrying off down to the Slytherin dungeons with her Winged Monkeys close by, gossiping spitefully.

Minerva did roll her eyes then, but swiftly turned her attentions back to her partner in crime. As the crowd thinned increasingly, Pomona and Minerva came closer and closer together. "Unfortunate that most of the school hasn't had their lunch yet, isn't it?" Pomona commented quietly.

"Hmm. Quite." Minerva agreed in the same low, conspiratorial tone. "And even more unfortunate when you think of how upset they'll be to discover Peeves has rendered the Great Hall off-limits for the rest of the afternoon." she added.

Pomona's eyes lit up. "The rest of the afternoon?" she asked. "And how to you propose _Peeves_ managed to ensure that?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Do you remember James Potter's first day as Head Boy?" she asked innocently.

Pomona grinned. "I'll cover you."

Minerva nodded and strode confidently over to the giant oak doors. Under the pretence of placing various locks and warning charms on them, officially declaring the area off-limits for students, she stuck her wand through the gigantic keyhole. "_Esto perpetue._" she hissed. To her extreme alarm, Peeves' head appeared through the door, inches away from her own head.

She glared at him. He beamed at her. "Naughty, naughty, Miss Professor Miss!" he taunted before flying off cackling again. Really, Minerva thought darkly, he had to stop doing that. Besides, extending the life of a spell (or in this case, several spells) wasn't really all that terrible. The spell would have existed with or without her input she was just… er… maximising it.

All in all, she thought with satisfaction, it had been a rather gratifying lunch. She straightened her shawl and her hat before turning around. A red-faced Delores was huffing down the stairs after Charlie Harper, who gave her a big thumbs-up. Minerva glared at him threateningly. "Mister Harper, you are dismissed." she said coolly. His cheerfulness did not appear to wane in the slightest as a result of this however.

"What… (wheeze)… What is… (cough)… What is going on here!" she demanded.

Minerva shot her a disdainful look. "I'll let Professor Sprout explain." she said contemptuously. "If you'll excuse me, I must check on my colleagues." She swept past the unkempt Headmistress and headed for the small antechamber which she knew held most of her dishevelled co-workers. She heard Delores splutter with indignation behind her.

**12:46 PM  
****-The Antechamber of Contention-**

Minerva entered the room, expecting to see a few people cleaning themselves off and straightening up before evening classes, while simultaneously complaining about Peeves and congratulating him. She did not expect to see two of her respected (well… semi-respected) colleagues hurling abuse at each other across the room while the other teachers started a betting pool in the corner.

"What is going on here?" she asked Professor Vector.

The Arithmancy Professor tore her gaze away from where Snape and Sinistra were glowering, just long enough to beam at Minerva. "Well-" And that was as far as she got before the yelling got too loud to speak over.

"I was merely saying that you, as a fully-grown adult, should be able to defend yourself against flying vegetables!" Snape hissed.

"Tomatoes are a fruit, not a vegetable." Sinistra informed him sanctimoniously, the effect somewhat ruined by the tomato pulp dripping from her hair. "Besides, for a man who claims to be able to defend against such things, you were on the receiving end of quite a few entrees, yourself."

Snape sneered. "I _defended_ myself perfectly, thank you. It is only due to your complete lack of balance and precision that I have a morsel of food on my person, Auriga."

"MY lack of balance and precision?" Sinistra cried. "MINE? You fell on me, you smug son of a-"

"Yes, yes. I highly believable story, were you to deliver it to the denser Hufflepuffs. Really Auriga. Statistically speaking you're barely capable of staying upright for more than fifteen seconds at a time." Snape told her arrogantly.

Sinistra's face turned a delicate shade of crimson. "Why you lying pile of-"

Minerva realised she shouldn't say anything. She realised that any Snape/Sinistra fight that already had a betting pool going on for it was likely beyond the point of no-return. And she even realised that they'd go on fighting whether she contributed or not. But she still felt compelled to comment.

"Actually Professor Snape?" she interrupted.

Both Snape and Sinistra's head snapped around to face her. Beside her, Minerva heard Professor Vector mutter "Quick, avert your gaze! We're out of Mandrakes!" but ignored her.

"Well I just felt the need to contribute that I was actually standing next to you when you fell on top of Auriga." she stated, supremely unaffected by Snape's venomous glare. "It was quite distinctly your fault."

"Ha!" Sinistra exclaimed triumphantly. "Hear that? When YOU fell on ME. Reliable witness."

Snape sent McGonagall one last look of malice before turning back to Sinistra. "Reliable witness or not, the fact remains that you should be able to protect yourself against fruit."

"I can defend myself against fruit!"

"Well your hair tells a different story Auriga." Snape informed her smoothly.

"I can!"

"So you say. Tell me; is it rather like defending oneself against iguanas?"

"Oh for heavens sake! It's been five years! Will you ever let that go?"

"Doubtful."

"You ornery scumbag!" Sinistra growled. "God! Why don't you just go eat puppydogs or make first years cry or something?"

"I only made that girl cry once! Why do people fixate on it?"

"Because it's a fine example of you showing what a loathsome snake you really are."

"Listen you vile wench-"

"Malignant worm-"

"Rabid shrew-"

Minerva shook her head and turned back to Vector who was cackling silently. Snape and Sinistra had a tendency to live with their claws at each other's throat. So much so that the betting pool was now basically pre-arranged.

"Usual bets?" she asked Vector, who nodded in response while refusing to take her eyes off the couple in front of her. "I've got five galleons on Sinistra being the first to cause actual harm, with Snape being the first one to say something verging on sexual-harassment."

"That brings the total pot to thirteen galleons and six sickles." Vector told her, still not looking away. Minerva made a noise of agreement and made for the exit, fighting off a smirk at the increasingly foul language behind her. The two of them were so delightfully insane.

**1: 02 PM  
****-Private Office-**

Minerva entered her office and was surprised to note the presence of someone else already there. Someone who, happily, was most certainly not Delores Umbridge, despite her recent propensity to pop in unannounced. Damnable woman.

"Miss Brown?" Minerva enquired.

Lavender Brown turned to face the doorway. She'd been sitting in Minerva's visitor seat with her back to the door; however she was easily distinguished by her glittering bangles and sparkling earrings. Though, Minerva was pleased to note, the girl still appeared distinctly more down-to-Earth than Sibyll Trelawney. For the moment.

"Oh… er… hi Professor McGonagall. I um…" she stammered, blushing with embarrassment. "I um…" she paused and took a deep breath as Minerva pulled the door closed and moved towards her desk.

"Miss Brown, calm yourself." she said simply, taking her seat. "Now, what can I do for you?

"Well, that's the thing Professor." she said nervously. "It's more what I can do for you. Um…" she sighed and leant back in her chair. "Look, Professor I know my last homework assignment was less-than-great."

There's an understatement, Minerva thought scathingly. She immediately reprimanded herself, thinking that Lavender Brown was only a semi-educated adolescent after all. She could not be held as accountable for her more idiotic acts as, say for example, Professor Lockhart. Who upon their first meeting had thought that an Animagus was "Some sort of fetish", he hastened to add that he was perfectly comfortable with it and wouldn't treat Minerva any differently than a normal human being. She nearly flinched at the memory before she remembered Miss Brown's presence.

"I'll admit it was rather substandard." Minerva commented equitably. "Far below your usual level of work. Any particular reason?"

Lavender looked away, muttering something about how hard the Fifth Year Coursework was. Minerva frowned. Lavender had been working steadily throughout the year. All right, she wasn't a brilliant student, but she was hardly abominable either. And she often complained that the latest year's workload was impossible to keep up with, at least until she got used to it (which usually occurred just before the summer holidays, when it was largely useless anyway as her workload would increase exponentially from that point on). What caught Minerva's attention was simply the fact that, now she actually thought about it, Lavender had been doing very well with her work so far that year, as had most of the members of the so-called "Dumbledore's Army".

Her official theory was that they had known that if their schoolwork had gotten the better of them, they would no longer be learning how to protect themselves. Nor would they have the opportunity to jinx Zacharias Smith which had to be a contributing factor in the enthusiasm with which they regarded the club in Minerva's considered opinion.

Minerva put on her Less-Stern Face. It was the closest she got to a Nice Face in front of students. "Miss Brown, is there something you'd like to tell me?" she asked the nervous youth in front of her.

Lavender looked resolutely at the floor. "Um… no Professor. I just wanted to apologise is all."

Minerva began sifting through her memories, trying to pinpoint Lavender's marks over the past year in her mind. When at last she did, resisted the urge to smack herself. "Well then, would you at least care to tell me why your marks have been steadily slipping since March?" she asked, not expecting an answer.

The girl's only response was to make a quiet 'ah' noise and fix her gaze even more firmly on her shoes. Minerva continued; "I understand if certain… extra-curricular activities were eating into your study time." she probed. "Pressure from other subjects, participation in, ah, additional tutoring groups…" she watched the girl carefully. "Tending to the needs of some of your old professors perhaps?"

Lavender's eyes widened. She began stammering incoherently about how she hadn't the faintest idea what Minerva could possibly be referring to. It occurred to Minerva that she should ask Professor Snape to teach Miss Brown how to lie effectively, as she was clearly in need of some tutoring on the subject.

She clasped her hands and placed them on her desk. "I understand that you and Miss Patil have been caring for Professor Trelawney since her dismissal, yes?" she asked sharply.

Lavender opened her mouth but no sound came out. She closed it again and nodded meekly.

"Very well. And might I inquire as to how much of your time this takes up?" Minerva pressed.

"Oh not too much." Lavender assured her weakly. "I mean… well, I'm sort of doing most of it since Parvati's parents have been pressuring her about her marks lately. And um… well I've been researching Divination on my own since Professor Firenze is a bit, you know, vague. And Professor Trelawney has been very…er… helpful."

Minerva seriously doubted that Sybill had been helpful to anyone over the past few months, but politely refrained from saying so. Several things began to make sense. Such as how on Earth the North Tower had managed to stay so perfectly organised, how Sybill had yet to fall off aforementioned tower in one of her more drunken episodes, and how Sybill had managed to stay (comparatively) out of trouble except during class time. When, Minerva now realised, she didn't have Lavender or Parvati looking out for her. How desperately depressing, she thought, that the students should have to care for the teacher's well-being.

"Miss Brown, when did you write your most recent report?" she asked in a tone which made it perfectly clear she expected to be answered truthfully and promptly.

Lavender winced. "Last night." she admitted.

"It was given to you last month."

"I know! And I meant to do it, I just…" she sighed and made a helpless gesture.

"What time?"

"What?"

"At what time last night did you do the report?" Minerva clarified.

"Um…" Lavender mumbled incoherently.

"Miss Brown?"

She winced again. "I started at eleven." she confessed. "But it was a bad night last night! Professor Trelawney was really upset and I…" she shrugged. "Well I had to stay with her until she went to sleep to make sure she didn't hurt herself or something."

Minerva almost did a double-take, but caught herself just in time. Given the time spent on it, and the fatigue she had no doubt felt, scraping an Acceptable on that homework report was actually extremely encouraging for Lavender. Similarly, she almost got up and hunted down Sybill Trelawney in order to "curse her a new one" (as Dennis Creevey was prone to saying). But she caught herself once again. What mattered at that particular moment was Lavender, not Minerva's anger with Sybill, whether it was righteous or not.

"Miss Brown," she said slowly. "I must request that you decrease the amount of time you spend… _caring for_ Sybill Trelawney." Lavender immediately began to protest but Minerva cut her off. "You are not helping Sybill by doing everything for her. She is a grown woman and she should be able to care for herself, by preventing her from doing so you are making her dependant on you and Miss Patil."

Lavender looked worried. "But Professor… if I don't… I mean if she does something to hurt herself then Professor Umbridge could have her thrown out. And the castle's her home! She probably wouldn't even know how to live somewhere else after all this time!"

"Be that as it may," Minerva ground out. "You are a student Miss Brown. You are a child. Your Professors should be taking care of you, not the other way around."

She didn't seem to be able to argue with that point, and so Lavender returned to staring at her shoes. Minerva pressed on.

"Your marks have been suffering. And while certain circumstances have prevented me from giving my students the attention they deserve this year," Lavender smirked here, clearly understanding the 'circumstances' in question perfectly. "I would presume that your work in other subjects has been slipping as well."

The smirk disappeared completely. Instead an oddly resolute look flickered across her face before Lavender's expression became carefully blank. In Minerva's experience that meant that the student question was going to go on doing exactly what they were doing before, for whatever reasons they felt justified it.

Minerva sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "If I were able to arrange for someone else to attend to Sybill and ensure her continued health, would you and Miss Patil be able to focus on your schoolwork once more?" she asked in a tone of barely restrained disgust. Sybill Trelawney. She was talking about finding a babysitter for Sybill Trelawney. A fully grown woman. It was pathetic.

Lavender, however, didn't think so. "You can… You can do that?" she asked hopefully.

"I can. Well, I think I can. I'm not promising anything. Why don't you and Miss Patil come by tomorrow and we can discuss it at length then." Minerva said.

"But what about…" Lavender trailed off and gestured vaguely.

"Your class work?" Minerva asked. The girl nodded. "Well, your homework does not count towards your O.W.L. grade so I suppose it is of little consequence. I will however expect you to review the last few months work. I'm giving a surprise test next week, which I fully expect you to pass admirably. Understood?"

Lavender nodded. "But, um, if it's a surprise test then why are you telling me?"

"Because your circumstances are different to the rest of the class. That said- if you tell anyone you will be spending the rest of the term in detention."

"Got it." Lavender said with a weak smile.

"All right then." Minerva began gathering her things for her next class. "Miss Brown I would recommend that you eat a large dinner tonight, have a long hot bath, and go to bed early." she said in all seriousness. "After so long caring for others, it might be an idea to care for yourself."

Lavender sat there, staring at Minerva as though she'd grown horns and a tail. Her jaw was practically on the floor and the only noise in the room was the light patter or rain against the window.

Minerva raised her eyebrows, grabbed her things and made her way to the door. "Now if you'll excuse me Miss Brown, I have a class at one thirty. Close the door on your way out please. And remember that you have another homework assignment due in two weeks. I expect you to start on it this week. Good day."

And with that, the conversation was over.

**1:35 PM  
****-Transfiguration Classroom-**

Hufflepuffs were, as a rule, easy to teach.

While they weren't all geniuses, they all valued learning and respected others' desire to learn, which meant they all tended to shut up, read and do as they were told until such times as they had a question. True, some had more questions than others, and true, some had more moronic questions than others; but generally they were easy enough to teach. But there was that rare type of Hufflepuff who not only questioned every single aspect of the lesson, but also disagreed with vast swathes of it for seemingly no reason, other than to be disagreeable.

Zacharias Smith was one such Hufflepuff.

"How are Animagus forms assigned?" he asked curiously.

All right, Minerva conceded, she'd had worse questions than that. In fact she'd heard that one a good few times over the years. "Most theories suggest that the form an Animagus takes is based on their personality, as well as physical aspects that make up their being. For example if a human being had lost a finger, then their Animagus form would also be lacking a finger or claw."

"Are aspects of the animal's personality carried over to the Animagus then? Or does the Animagus already have a connection to the animal?" Smith continued. "Like, would they start to act more canine or something?"

Minerva had heard that one before too, though less often than the first. "I suppose it depends on your point of view. Other Animagi have told me that their behaviour has shifted somewhat to favour the animal since they became able to transform. I personally have not noticed any shift however." she told him patiently while the rest of the class watched on with mild interest.

"Oh." Smith seemed disappointed. "Well what can you do in your animal form?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean are you just a normal cat? Can you interact with other cats?"

"To a degree."

"And can you smell like a cat, and see like a cat, and stuff?"

"Yes."

"And can you…" Smith's eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. It struck Minerva that this was probably not a good sign, but despite herself she pressed him.

"Can I?"

"Can you have kittens!"

The class roared with laughter and Minerva nearly winced. She did not have to answer, however, as several people were already doing so.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course she can't!" a female voice cried out.

"But what if the father was another cat Animagus?"

"Then would they have kittens or would they have children?"

"Well they couldn't have children could they, they're cats!"

"Besides how likely would it be to find another cat Animagus?"

"What about a Kneazle, can she have kittens with a Kneazle?"

"Why a Kneazle?"

"Well it's a magical creature so maybe it can adapt better or something."

"What if she were a Tom instead of a female cat? Could she knock up some other cat and then transform back more easily?"

"What does it matter which gender she is?"

"Well she couldn't very well get pregnant with a litter of kittens and then turn back into a human, could she?"

"Why not?"

"What do you mean why not? I'll tell you why not! Because…"

Minerva took a seat and observed the interaction with vague amusement. True, she had a reputation for being able to control any class in school, but if she didn't let them discuss this now she would probably get homework assignments on it and she couldn't be bothered. Besides, who knew? Perhaps her sixth year Hufflepuffs would discover a medical breakthrough for Animagi everywhere.

"A cat can't be pregnant with a human baby you idiot! It'd probably explode for pity's sake!"

Then again, perhaps not.

**2:17 PM  
****-Transfiguration Classroom-**

After the Great Kitten Debate of 1996 died down, class went rather smoothly. During the debate it was generally agreed that Minerva could _not_ have kittens. Or that if she did they would have to be fathered by another cat Animagus and that in the unlikely event of that happening the kittens would be super-intelligent, diabolical genius kittens who would take over the Earth with an army of tabbies, which they would control with poisoned cat-nip and mind-controlling feather toys.

Minerva honestly missed having the thought processes of a fifteen year old on occasions, as it would evidently be a lot more interesting than her own thoughts.

The class was doing theory work, which meant she didn't even have to prowl the room in search of grievously injured students. Instead she was marking the first year's homework. Euan Abercrombie had just explained the purpose of Untransfiguration when the door opened unexpectedly and Delores Umbridge waddled in.

Minerva immediately closed the file on her table, put her pen away and clasped her hands on the desk in front of her.

"Continue with your work." she told the class sharply. Quills immediately began scribbling away once again, even before Delores had made it over the threshold.

The (ahem) Headmistress eyed the quiet, studious room with surprise. Or was that envy? Minerva felt a fleeting sense of relief that Delores had not turned up when Betty Branstone and Christopher Stebbins had been discussing the likeliness of Minerva finding a nice, male, cat Animagus whom she wanted to breed with as it would have been unlikely to promote the same reaction.

"Is there something I can do for you Delores?" she asked without interest.

"Minerva, I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time?" Delores simpered.

"You _are_ the Headmistress." Minerva said, by way of an agreement, since she certainly wouldn't be agreeing to it outright anytime soon.

"Oh…er. Well I meant outside. Away from the students, you understand."

No power on Earth was going to make students get back to work now and Minerva knew it. With a mildly irritated look she got to her feet and followed Delores outside. "Anyone who leaves their chair loses one hundred points." she added to the class, closing the door behind her.

**2:19 PM  
****-Hallway-**

Delores stood in front of the classroom door, blocking off Minerva's ability to re-enter her room. She supposed it was designed to be threatening, 'blocking off her exits' as it were. Delores seemed entirely unaware that Minerva could reduce her to the consistency of tapioca pudding with nothing more than a wave of her wand. Which was probably fortunate with regards to Minerva's job security, but not quite as fortunate when it came to exchanges suck as this.

She stood at her full height, looking down on Delores with barely disguised loathing. "May I help you?" she asked, in a tone which communicated the unsaid 'off a cliff' quite nicely.

Umbridge's face stretched into another sickening, simpering smile which made Minerva dearly wish to curse something. "Well Minerva," she said in a quiet voice that was barely audible. "The Ministry requires your presence in the Staff room."

"Do they really?" she said dully (and at a normal volume, might she add). "Well the Ministry will have to wait until three o'clock. I have a class waiting. Excuse me." She attempted to move past the hideous little toad, but she wouldn't move.

"_Actually_, Minerva, it wasn't a request." she smiled even wider. "The Ministry wishes to question you on the current whereabouts of Albus Dumbledore."

Had Minerva been so inclined, she would have thrown her head back and cackled right there. The idiotic woman actually thought Minerva had some vague idea where Dumbledore had got to. She was looking triumphant and everything, as though she'd cornered Minerva in some virtuoso plot of fiendish trickery. Deciding that her afternoon was looking more and more entertaining, Minerva nodded. She also did an admirable job of hiding her smile.

"Very well Delores." she agreed, the very picture of acquiescence. "If you'll give me a moment."

She stepped around the stubby little woman and opened the door to her classroom. "Class, you are dismissed. I expect you to read up to chapter seventeen by next lesson."

"That was not what I meant Minerva." Delores said bitterly. "I had intended to take over your class for the time being."

"Had you really? Well, how terribly disappointing for you. But never fret Delores; I'm sure you'll find some other way to occupy yourself. Cleaning up that dreadful mess in the Great Hall, perhaps?"

She just had time to see Delores look as though she'd been force-fed poison before she walked briskly down the hall.

**2:25 PM  
****-Staff Room-**

Minerva entered the Staff Room to see Aurors Darren Dawlish, Gottfried Proudfoot and Kingsley Shacklebolt sat waiting for her. They had their notebooks in hand and wands extended as though Lord Voldemort himself had just meandered in for a quick cuppa and a Ginger Newt. She sent them a pitying look and stalked over to the tea station, helping herself to a cup.

"Are you Minerva McGonagall?" Proudfoot demanded.

"No." Minerva said flatly, without turning back to face them.

"Er… no?" Proudfoot said, clearly uncertain how to react to this pronouncement.

"No. It's Celestina Warbeck in disguise, can't you tell?" Minerva could have sworn she heard Kingsley chuckle under his breath, but she chose not to dwell on it. Instead, she turned to face Dawlish and Proudfoot with her teacup in hand. "Really Gottfried, I was your teacher for seven years. If you have to ask who I am then I can only presume that your propensity to ask pointless questions has not vanished over the years." Proudfoot flushed slightly. "Pity." Minerva added sincerely. It really was the most annoying habit.

"Sorry Professor." he said, appearing chagrined. "We have to ask. Ministry regulations, you know."

"Hmm." Minerva commented doubtfully.

"Is that a wand at your waist Ma'am?" Dawlish asked her, with a hint of a threat in his voice.

"No, it's a chicken."

She'd never liked Darren Dawlish. He'd been in Slytherin, and he'd made Draco Malfoy look like a gentleman. And he didn't have any of the redeeming qualities that Draco Malfoy had. Nor did he have the excuse of being a rich pureblood who didn't know any better.

Darren Dawlish was, in Minerva's estimation, a prat.

She strongly suspected that the only reason he'd trained as an Auror in the first place was because he didn't quite have the heritage to be certain of a place amongst the Death Eaters nor, quite frankly, the backbone for such an undertaking. Which was saying something really, when you considered the cowards that were in the Dark Lords service. But as an Auror he got to wield a fair amount of power over a fair amount of people, and hardly anyone was going to question it. Minerva was dearly hoping he'd try to threaten her in the near future. He'd always been scared of her as a child and it would probably cheer her up quite a bit to terrorise him some more.

"Professor McGonagall," Dawlish ground out. Still using her correct title, she noted. Nice to see there was still some fear there. "If you are not going to cooperate with the Ministry in this matter-"

"I am perfectly prepared to cooperate with the Ministry, Mister Dawlish. However if the Ministry honestly feels the need to state the blindingly obvious at every turn then I'm afraid my cooperation will be uncongenial at best." Minerva practically felt her eyes glitter with unspoken malice. "I do not suffer fools lightly. Something you, of all people, should recall."

There was no denying the intense satisfaction she felt as Dawlish began shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, as though he were eleven years old once again.

Kingsley spoke up next, his mellifluous tones carrying easily across the room. "Professor McGonagall we mean no disrespect." he told her soothingly.

"We just… it is Ministry protocol to be specific about everything that happens during an interview." Proudfoot told her. He was clearly aiming for a soothing tone, similar to Kingsley's. He failed quite spectacularly and came across sounding as though he were suffering mild laryngitis. Minerva fought off an eye roll.

"Well then, let us be specific. I am currently holding in my hands a cup of tea, in my favourite white porcelain tea cup. It has a barely noticeable crack in the handle. I take my tea with a little milk and two sugars and at the time of saying this I have had about a sip and a half out of the cup. Was that, ah, specific enough for you Dawlish?" she asked in the sweetest tone she could.

While nobody answered her specifically, she did receive two glares and a grin for her efforts. Unaffected by all three reactions, Minerva made her way over to the couch and took a seat. In her mind she began debating whether she'd ever be able to finish marking that first year homework before the end of the day. True, she didn't have anymore classes scheduled. But for some reason Minerva doubted there would be many more gaps in her day. She sighed in frustration and took another sip of tea.

"Well then Professor, why don't we move onto the serious questions?" Proudfoot said briskly.

"Yes," a voice from the door said darkly. "Why don't we?"

**2:30 PM  
****-Staff Room, again-**

Minerva turned to see Severus Snape standing in the doorway, a look of blatant disgust upon his face. Minerva probably would have been intimidated, had she not been so unutterably delighted.

Behind Snape, Professors Flitwick and Sprout stood with their arms folded and glowers settled firmly on their faces. All the House Heads, Minerva noted. The four teachers the Ministry perceived as being closest to Dumbledore. Minerva smirked internally. She was amazed they hadn't nabbed Hagrid yet.

"Oh good." Kingsley greeted pleasantly. "You're here. Please make yourself comfortable Professors." He was glared at as well, but he appeared to care even less than Minerva did. She'd always liked Kingsley. He'd won Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup one year. An excellent Keeper. He was handsome too.

After a few moments of shifting around, the four Professors were completely at home. Or rather, Minerva, Filius and Pomona were completely at home, sitting on the couch opposite the three Aurors. Snape preferred to stand behind the Professors' couch, towering over the room. It was really quite reassuring, in a twisted sort of way, to have a skilled Death Eater (reformed Death Eater, ex-Death Eater, whatever) on your side when facing off against Aurors. Minerva wondered if they were available to be rented out.

This, in turn, led to some strange ponderings on whether Lord Voldemort himself was available as a chaperone, which consequently resulted in Minerva pondering just what The Dark Lord's livelihood was these days. She doubted he'd earned juicy enough commissions at Borgin and Burkes to retire so early. She resolved to add it to her list of "Things to Ponder at a Later Date" and began drinking her tea more purposefully.

She really needed more sleep before she had a day like today, she realised. Or at least more caffeine throughout aforementioned day, if she intended to function properly.

"Well, first of all, I suppose we should ask the big question." Dawlish said, putting a Dark Detector on the coffee table. "Do any of you know the current location of Albus Dumbledore?"

Minerva eyed the Dark Detector for a moment. It was high end, very expensive and almost infallible. She raised her eyebrows and then all four teachers answered at once.

"No."

"Nope."

"No idea."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

And then there was silence. The Dark Detector sat perfectly dormant, indicating complete honesty from the teachers, while all three Aurors appeared mildly irritated. Dawlish began adjusting the Dark Detector, apparently checking for flaws, while Proudfoot began reorganising his notes compulsively. Both seemed quite unwilling to believe that no one present had any idea about Dumbledore's whereabouts.

"Do, ah, any of you know the future location of Albus Dumbledore?" Proudfoot queried

"Not even vaguely."

"No."

"No."

"Well I presume he'll have to go to the bathroom at some point, but aside from that: No."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Indeed."

"Yes."

"Quite."

"Um… Do you each of you feel you have given Delores Umbridge your full cooperation in her endeavour to reform Hogwarts?" Proudfoot asked.

Minerva froze, staring at him as though he'd turned into a giant raccoon. Actually, she was a Transfiguration Professor; she probably would have considered him more normal had he done that. Trustworthy; she expected to be interviewed to see if she was trustworthy. Possibly interviewed to see if she was Queen of the Damned or something similarly frowned upon in polite Wizarding society. But nice? She was being interviewed to see if she was _nice_? That was under Ministry legislation now? God help her.

Apparently her co-workers were similarly confounded, as not one of them made a move to answer. The Aurors were watching them suspiciously. Eventually, Filius took the lead.

"Er… Define the term Full Cooperation?" he requested, looking thoroughly confused.

"Well, have you done all you can to make Professor Umbridge comfortable? Have you made it easy for her to do her job?"

"Er…"

Minerva exchanged a look with Pomona. Who exchanged a look with Filius. Who exchanged a look with Minerva. Then they all exchanged a look with Severus.

It was about that time that the Dark Detector started screaming bloody murder.

**3:15 PM  
****- Staff Room-**

"Well that could have gone worse." Professor Flitwick announced a few minutes after the Aurors left the room.

Minerva glared at him disdainfully. "How, pray tell, could that have gone _worse_, Filius?" she asked. "Barring one of us losing any semblance of control and stabbing Dawlish to death with a teaspoon, I mean."

"It wasn't that bad." Pomona placated. "At least they don't think we're involved in some illegal plot to overthrow the Ministry."

"No." Severus agreed dryly. "They just think we're raving lunatics."

Minerva sighed. "They can think whatever they wish of me. So long as they leave me alone for at least ten minutes. I've had a long day."

The door knocked less than a second after the words were out of her mouth. She glared at the door. Sure, it didn't look like much. It was made of old, worn, oak with creaky hinges and a tarnished handle. But in Minerva's mind it was the door, and the door alone, that was responsible for whatever was on the other side of it.

Everyone in the room was eyeing it with similar antipathy and suspicion, and for a moment the only sound to be heard was the ever-present rain on the window. There was palpable tension as they realised that there was something or someone on the other side of that door which actually needed attending to. Minerva supposed Delores had elongated many people's days around Hogwarts, resulting in fewer and fewer teachers having the energy to be vaguely pleasant. She had it on good authority, for example, that Professor Sinistra had made a Hufflepuff girl cry. Far from the usual guilt and discomfort this brought Auriga, she simply snapped at the girl for being ridiculous and gave her a detention.

If that wasn't a sign of Hogwarts coming apart at the seams, god knew what was. What made the tension even more apparent was that all four Heads of House were in the room. Surely, no matter who was there, one of them was going to draw the short straw.

Whoever it was knocked on the door again. Minerva snapped and got to her feet. "Oh come in already!" she called splenetically.

The door swung open and revealed a distinctly annoyed Ginny Weasley. It looked like Minerva got the short straw then. She quickly ran through her schedule in her head. The Gryffindor Fourth Years were in Defence Against the Dark Arts from three o'clock. This, combined with the hideous pink note in Miss Weasley's hands, allowed Minerva to take a wild guess at what was causing Weasley's vexation.

"Professor Umbridge says I should give this to you Professor." she practically growled as she made her way over to the couch. Minerva took the note from her hand and tapped it with her wand to unfurl it.

As she read it, the other teachers were watching the girl with something between pride, amusement and irritation. Well, except for Severus, who Minerva imagined was skipping the first two emotions and settling with the third. He had a tendency to do that with Gryffindor students.

Minerva folded up the note and regarded Miss Weasley. "You disrespected Professor Umbridge during class?"

"No." Ginny said sullenly. Minerva raised her eyebrows. Ginny rolled her eyes. "She mispronounced Cruciatus Curse." she muttered grudgingly. "I was merely… _correcting_ her."

Despite herself, Minerva felt a small tug of amusement at that. "And?" she prompted.

"And…" Ginny rocked back and forth on her feet. Minerva wondered if she had any idea how very like Fred and George she was behaving. And Bill, come to think of it. "Well, um, Umbridge-"

"_Professor_ Umbridge." Filius reprimanded lightly.

Ginny shrugged. "Yeah. Her." she agreed. "Well she said that she knew the subject better than me and that I should respect that fact. I casually mentioned that if that were true, she should know how to pronounce the Unforgivable Curses."

"Which was it she mispronounced? The proper title or the incantation?" Pomona asked curiously.

"Proper title." Ginny clarified. "She had no problem whatsoever with the incantation. Actually seemed comfortable with it." A small frown appeared on her face. "Hey, do you think I could get her arrested for yelling Crucio at me across a classroom?" she wondered aloud.

Minerva considered it seriously. True, she doubted it would work, but if she was able to have Delores locked up for threatening one of her students… "Did she have her wand out?" she asked. Ginny shook her head. "Oh. Well then no." Ginny looked crestfallen. Minerva went over the note in her mind again. "What was it about 'suggesting ludicrous candidates in her place'?" she asked.

Ginny cleared her throat and glanced around nervously. "Well… um…" she placed her hair behind her ears. "She started saying that she was the best qualified person for the job and then she got all smug about it and told me to name any other candidate who I thought would be more capable in the position."

Snape scoffed audibly. "If you suggested Potter you deserved to be sent out of the room." he muttered in an equally audible voice. In response, Minerva had the pleasure of seeing a Weasley scowl at Snape. Which was always entertaining when it occurred (which was, lets face it, fairly frequently).

Ginny folded her arms and glared daggers at him. "Actually, Professor, I suggested you." she told him coldly.

All right. Minerva had come to expect a lot of things from the Weasley clan: Red hair, freckles, violent temper, bizarre ability to get into trouble even without meaning to, and an inordinate fondness for Honeydukes were all on the list. Suggesting Snape would be a good Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, however, was quite unequivocally not on the list. Minerva felt her eyebrows rise in shock. After all, being possessed by Tom Riddle and slaughtering chickens was all fine and dandy so far as she was concerned… But this was just weird. Snape himself seemed rather shocked, which took a bit of doing.

Ginny turned back to face Minerva, appearing faintly irritated. "Look, with all due respect Professor McGonagall I was sort of hoping to get to the library and research something about Defence Against the Dark Arts that was actually… you know…" she gestured vaguely. "Useful."

Minerva nodded at her. "Very well. Delores seems to think your behaviour merit's a punishment so…"

She was saved the bother of finishing that sentence when Stuart Ackerley appeared in the doorway. "Er, Professor McGonagall?" he asked loudly. Minerva looked up at him, which he apparently took as a sign to continue. "Madam Pomfrey asked me to ask you to go to the Hospital Wing." he stated. "She says it's urgent." the barest flicker of a smile crossed his face. "It looks pretty urgent too. Cormac McLaggen is yelling a lot and clutching his… Well, er, he's in quite a state, Professor."

Minerva rolled her eyes and got to her feet. "Very well, Ackerley. You may go." the dark haired boy nodded, grinned, and disappeared. He was always so inordinately cheerful that boy. It was disconcerting, with a side of outright annoying.

Shaking her head slightly, Minerva turned back to face Ginny Weasley. Then she pointed at Severus. "Professor Snape is in charge of your punishment." she said simply.

She was already on her way out of the room before Severus could protest. Still, it would be interesting to see how much he could bring himself to punish a student for suggesting him for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. It would be even more interesting when you considered the fact that the student in question was a young, female version of Fred Weasley, who was a star new player of Gryffindor Quidditch team and had been known to harbour a crush on Harry Potter. Yes, Minerva thought gleefully, it would be very interesting indeed to see how Severus would respond to this.

**3:28 PM  
****-Hospital Wing-**

She entered the Hospital Wing a mere five minutes after being summoned. It was surprising how much more quickly a person could travel when they actually wanted to reach their destination.

As she entered she noticed a long line of students leading into the back corner, behind a wall of curtains where she could only assume Madam Pomfrey was sitting. There were at least thirty students there though, and none of them were showing obvious signs of Skiving Snackboxes usage. In fact, to a man, they were nursing broken wrists and ankles, with the occasional bruised tailbone. She did not see Cormac McLaggen anywhere, nor did she hear yelling, but that was not top of her priorities at the moment.

She swooped down on the nearest students. The nearest students just so happened to be Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. C'est la vie she supposed. "Nott! Malfoy!" she snapped. Both boys turned sharply to look at her, apparently tearing themselves away from a deeply interesting conversation wherein they appeared to be threatening each other. It was quite delightful really.

"Yes Professor McGonagall?" Nott enquired politely. Malfoy simply glared expectantly. She presumed he hadn't gotten over the hair slide incident yet, even though it felt like quite a while ago to her.

"What's going on here? How were you injured?"

"Greengrass." Malfoy replied instantly, with a nasty look at Nott. "She put a Glissante Charm on the East Hallway." he promptly clarified. "People have been slipping on it all day. Then a while ago the fifth year Slytherins and the third year Ravenclaws were running between classes, crashed into each other and this is the result."

An image of Professor Vector's grinning face as she cast that charm on the East Hallway burst into Minerva's mind. But since she could hardly tell Malfoy that she knew he was a lying little git because she'd actually been present when the charm was cast and knew that Daphne Greengrass had been nowhere in the vicinity, she instead settled for a hard look.

"And how exactly do you know that Miss Greengrass is responsible for this charm?" she asked.

"He doesn't." Nott said darkly. "He just likes trying to get her in trouble."

"That's slanderous Nott." Malfoy hissed in an undertone which he clearly thought was inaudible. "Perhaps I should give you a detention for saying such things about a respected member of the Inquisitorial Squad."

"Respected Member of the Inquisitorial Squad? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?" Nott shot back in the same undertone.

Minerva raised her hand to indicate that she was hearing them both perfectly well and that they would face her undeniable wrath if they continued. However in her mind she'd already awarded Theodore an extra five points on his homework. "Mister Malfoy, why do you believe Miss Greengrass cast this charm?" she repeated.

"Well because she was the only person in our class who wasn't there. She took the long way around to History of Magic."

"Yeah, to get away from you, you prat." Nott snapped.

Minerva sent a quelling glare his way. He clamped up, sharp-ish, and she returned her attention to Malfoy. "Coincidental evidence at best Malfoy."

Malfoy looked annoyed. "She's got the Charms ability." he continued in a petulant voice. "Probably the only one in our class who does."

"Well I'll be sure to tell Professor Flitwick about your high opinion of her." Minerva said coolly. "However it proves nothing. You may return to the line." Both boys did so without question.

Attempting to arrange her features into an innocent and vaguely bemused expression, Minerva began making her way to the front of the line. It was harder than she would have expected, as most students were being pretty militant about keeping their places. From what she could deduce there had been some pushing earlier, causing a sharp increase in hostility. By the time Minerva got there it was apparently every man for himself. In fact if she wasn't mistaken she could see a couple of third years holding an auction for their place near the front of the line. They seemed to be doing quite well.

Eventually though, she made it up to the curtained enclosure. Which, as it turned out, was not an enclosure at all. Rather it was one enclosure and one adjoining screen which hid those receiving treatment from view, as Madam Pomfrey saw to them. Rather than treat them at the nurses station, however, she was treating them from a conjured armchair by the actual enclosure. Bewilderingly enough, there was a romance novel on the arm of the chair and a long stick at her feet. A long pointed stick with a fairly firm handle.

Minerva quirked a brow at the Matron who indicated that she should wait a moment until the current student had been seen too. Regrettably the current student was Gregory Goyle and he had a bruised tailbone. Minerva strongly suspected the sight had scarred her for life.

"Right. That's you done Mister Goyle. Please tell the next person in line to wait a few moments until I come to see them." Poppy instructed crisply. She didn't like Mister Goyle. Nor did she like Mister Crabbe. She often complained that before those two had come to Hogwarts, she'd only had to cure a dozen broken noses over the years. The number had increased considerably in the previous five years however.

Predictably enough, Goyle grunted, pulled up his trousers and strode over to the front of the line to tell a terrified first year Slytherin not to move. It was a wonder the boy wasn't cursed more, in Minerva's opinion. As it would hardly be difficult to catch him off guard.

"You wanted to see me Poppy?" she enquired after the boy had left.

"Yes, yes I did." Poppy said wearily, getting to her feet. "It's about Mister McLaggen I'm afraid."

Minerva (barely) suppressed a groan. McLaggen had an unfortunate tendency to do stupid things. Either as part of a bet or, more frequently, because he thought he could. Minerva supposed he was of the opinion that it made him attractive to girls. And to certain girls it did; however it was these very same girls who became immediately disillusioned with him when they realised he was not, in fact, a brave Knight sent to rescue them; but rather a randy prat who'd eat his own arm off if he thought it would get him a date.

Not that Minerva was speaking ill of her students.

She was _thinking_ ill of her students, and that was entirely permissible.

"What's he done this time?" Minerva sighed. Poppy opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a loud, girlish scream from within the closed-off area.

With a small eye roll, Poppy stooped to pick up the long pointed stick that was at her feet. Minerva watched in stunned amazement as she poked it through the curtains and began viciously prodding whoever was screaming in there.

"Quiet! Quiet now! Don't you make me come in there!" She reared the stick back and jabbed it firmly into the curtained area. A loud yelp of pain sounded from within, but after this there was silence. Poppy made a satisfied noise and meandered over to the potions cabinet behind her chair. "That'll teach him." she muttered.

The only noise Minerva managed to make at this juncture was a fairly astounded. "Er…?"

Poppy didn't even look up from the potions cabinet. She simply waved her hand dismissively. "He's been doing it all afternoon, it's becoming ridiculous. You know I've had to go in there twice to stop him swallowing his tongue? Daft boy."

Minerva started stammering in spite of herself. "You mean… surely that's not… you were… That was a _student_?"

"Aha! Got you!" Poppy announced, triumphantly pulling out a dark green bottle before looking over to Minerva questioningly. "Sorry what was that?"

"That was a student? You've been prodding a student all afternoon? With that thing? You could've impaled them!" Minerva cried, alarmed.

Poppy, looking supremely unperturbed, began to measure out a quantity of whatever liquid was in the bottle. "Oh don't be silly Minerva. As I was saying earlier. Mister McLaggen has got himself into a bit of a situation. Even worse than the doxy eggs this time. He was in Herbology and, while I don't know the specifics involved, I do know that he ate nearly three hundred grams of Alihotsy leaves."

It immediately became apparent to Minerva that the Matron's decision to vacate the armchair was not for her own benefit, so much as Minerva's. To wit, she collapsed into the cushy chair and groaned to herself. "Oh he didn't?"

"He did." Poppy confirmed with a grim air. "He promptly became delirious, and was under the impression that Professor Sprout's ear muffs were out to get him. He then made a break for it into the forest where he was found twenty minutes later, stark naked and cowering behind a shrub."

Perhaps it was a sign that Minerva had been teaching at Hogwarts too long, or a sign that she was thoroughly jaded by this point, but the only thing that really surprised her about that statement was the fact that he'd been found in a mere twenty minutes. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she forced herself onto her feet again.

"All right. What's the recommended treatment?" she asked.

"Standard Anti-delirium potions. Three a day for a week, perhaps longer given the vast quantities ingested. Sleeping potions at night and bed rest after that." Poppy said in her usual, business-like tone before her manner softened a bit. "But Minerva if he doesn't stop this behaviour soon-"

"I know. I know." Minerva said. "You don't need to tell me. He's missed half his NEWT course already. I'll write to his parents." she sighed. "I'll tell them that if there's another incident like this we'll have to expel him. We can't have students going around harming themselves like this. Imagine what message he's sending to the first years."

Poppy looked as though she dearly wished to sit down and lament McLaggen for a good few hours. However she was prevented from doing just that by the sudden arrival of a harassed looking Demelza Robins. Her dark hair was flying around her face and, while she looked more accustomed to running around than Justin Finch-Fletchley, she hardly looked pleased.

"Professor McGonagall?" she greeted testily. "Professor Umbridge asked me to give this to you." she held out another pink monstrosity.

Minerva frowned at the girl. "Miss Robins, how many places have you been searching for me?"

"Er…" she frowned. "Well your classroom, your office, the staff room, and now here."

_Roughly translated: half the castle. Typical._ "Very well then. Five points to Gryffindor for dedication." Minerva said carelessly. "You may go."

Demelza smiled, turned on her heel and left.

Poppy raised her eyebrow. "Dedication?" she queried.

Minerva tapped the note with her wand and began to read. "Yes. Dedication." she replied candidly. "Had I been given a note like this at her age, I would've told the old goat to deliver the blasted thing herself."

The note was written in that appallingly curly, feminine handwriting and read: _Minerva, your presence is requested in my office immediately. Signed, the Hogwarts High Inquisitor._

Poppy, who had been unabashedly reading over her shoulder, snorted with disgust. "She can't just sign a letter with her name, can she?" she muttered.

Minerva would have answered, but instead she made her goodbyes and swiftly made her way out of the room. She was fairly certain her right eye was beginning to twitch. Probably due to the stress and irritation factor of being bounced around from pillar to post by a woman with the fashion sense of a four year old, she reasoned. And so, with her hand twitching longingly for her wand for the millionth time that day, Minerva left the hospital wing and set off to meet Delores.

Again.

**3:56 PM  
****-The Chintz Inferno-**

It happened every time without fail. Every, single, time. She walked into Delores Umbridge's office and she suddenly felt the need to either vomit or kick something. Minerva was particularly offended by the fluffy white kittens that decorated the walls, with their assorted ribbons, and hats, and God-knew-what-else. They were, in her opinion, and insult to the feline species.

If she'd been being honest, Minerva had expected to walk in and see Potter sitting there with a sullen expression on his face. Or perhaps Lee Jordan. Maybe even, at a push, Victor Frobisher who had made it clear he would love nothing better than to curse Delores soundly. She had not been expecting to see Colin Creevey, sitting with his arms folded as he scowled out the window, occasionally shooting venomous glances at Delores.

As soon as he noticed Minerva, he scrambled to his feet and began babbling incoherently. She made out the phrases "Didn't mean anything by it" "Just a joke" "Reading too much into it" "Please Professor" and "That old toad". Minerva raised her hand for silence, gestured at Colin to take a seat, and looked past him to Delores.

"May I ask why I have been brought here?" she inquired coolly.

Delores's mouth stretched horribly into a sickly smile. "Why don't I show you Minerva?" she said in a breathless and saccharine tone. Minerva dearly wished to smack her. She got off her chair and waddled over to Minerva's feet, handing her something. Something which looked, bizarrely enough, like a calendar. She took it and glanced at it curiously. "Young Mister Creevey has been feeling creative." Delores commented.

Minerva honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She held in her hands a calendar called "**Voldie's Angels: A study of the Inquisitorial Squad and their connections with Death Eaters**". She flicked through it idly. Draco Malfoy was Mister July. The picture was subtitled: "**Draco Malfoy a.k.a. The Amazing Bouncing Ferret.**"

She looked up at Colin, who was turning pink but holding his head up high nonetheless. Staring between him and the calendar several times, Minerva tried to think of something to say. Regrettably the first thing that came to mind was; "How on Earth did you get a picture of Draco Malfoy being turned into a ferret?"

Judging by Delores's glare, this was not the response she'd been hoping for, but it was still a response. And she was genuinely curious since she knew for a fact that no photographs had been taken of the actual event. If they had been she would have stolen… that is, she would have confiscated them by now. Unlike Delores, Colin grinned. "Oh that was easy; all you need to do is get a picture of a ferret which is on the same scale as the original picture. You partially develop both pictures at the same time and then transfer the ferret into the other picture. Since both participants are already sentient enough to know that the other doesn't belong, they start to turn back and forth like-"

"MISTER CREEVEY SIT DOWN! And stop looking so pleased with yourself!" Delores snapped angrily.

Minerva was a bit disappointed. She'd been enjoying that. It showed that even though Colin was useless at Transfiguration, he certainly had other talents. Why, if he could doctor photographs already, the Daily Prophet would be wetting themselves to get his talents in a few years.

Colin did sit down. But he didn't stop looking pleased with himself.

An infuriated Delores turned her attentions back to Minerva. "Do you know what this is?" she whispered sharply, gesturing at the calendar.

Quirking a brow at the conspiratorial manner Delores was employing, Minerva skimmed through it again. "Yes. It's incomplete. He doesn't have a picture for Pansy Parkinson yet."

"This is slander! That's what it is!" Delores hissed.

Had she believed she could get away with rolling her eyes and kept her job intact, Minerva would have rolled her eyes and told the woman to get a grip. Or a life. Or possibly a date, had that suggestion not brought quite so many vile images to mind.

As it was, she responded in a low tone which Colin couldn't hear. "Delores you have not given me one single bit of evidence to suggest that Mister Creevey made this for anything more than personal use. As such it is not slander, so much as personal opinion."

"Is that so?" Delores asked, her beady little eyes narrowing. Sensing that the question was probably rhetorical, Minerva politely refrained from answering. She did, however, sigh a bit.

Delores waddled over to Colin, brandishing the calendar like a sword. "Mister Creevey! Was this calendar intended for mass production?" she demanded shrilly.

Colin looked slightly baffled for a second. Then a look of grim resolution appeared on his face, quite clearly indicating that he was about to answer with a firm 'Too right it was'. Fortunately, he glanced over at Minerva first. She shook her head firmly. "Er… no."

Delores balked. "No! What do you mean No?" Minerva wondered vaguely why all Umbridge's confrontations with students went along these lines. She also wondered what would happen if herself and Dumbledore had agreed to let all the students go nuts and do whatever they pleased to the puffed-up old crone. The images the suggestion brought to mind were really quite satisfying.

"Was this for personal use then?" she asked Colin leisurely.

He nodded. Delores flushed.

"It was not, you filthy little liar!"

"Forgive me Delores, but where is the proof of that?" Minerva queried innocently.

Delores spluttered but didn't say anything. After a moment, she clamped her jaw shut. She appeared to swell before their very eyes, glaring between the two Gryffindors as she realised that there was nothing she could do. Minerva could only imagine that realising you had brought a co-worker and student into your office for absolutely no reason, on a completely groundless and, indeed, pointless charge. She could only imagine, because she had never done it before, as she had better things to do with her time.

"Right then. Well if that will be all, I'll just escort Mister Creevey back to his class." she ran through her various timetables in her head. "Divination, isn't it Mister Creevey?" she asked.

Colin nodded, grabbed his things and bolted across the room to stand by Minerva.

Minerva herself lingered, watching Delores with expertly disguised glee. "Professor Umbridge? If you'd be so kind as to return that?" she asked, indicating the calendar still clutched in Delores's stubby fingers.

The dear Headmistress looked as though she would have rather handed over her wisdom teeth. Her face twisted indignity and annoyance, but she handed it over. "Mister Creevey," she ground out. "If I ever discover you amusing yourself with publications of this sort again…" she left the threat unfinished, but Colin nodded all the same.

"Yes Professor Umbridge." he returned contritely, a smirk playing on his face.

"Yes Professor Umbridge." Minerva echoed. "Thank you for your… er… _help_. Let's go Mister Creevey." She turned and strode out of the room, a delighted Colin trotting along in her wake.

**4:30 PM  
****-The Great Hall-**

It took nearly ten minutes to escort Colin back into Professor Firenze's class. This was due to a combination of his spluttered thanks and her corrections to his calendar. He seemed rather alarmed that she knew so much about former Death Eaters and their connections to Hogwarts Students, but he got over it quickly and began taking hurried notes.

She then had to drop by the East Hallway to remove the charm. Easier said than done, as a group of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were ice skating on it with recently transfigured shoes. She couldn't deny being impressed, however, when she saw Roger Davies pull off a triple axel.

When asked why they weren't in class, she was informed that NEWT Level Potions had been cancelled that afternoon as the Great Hall, The Entrance Hall and, consequently, the entrance to the Dungeons were all off-limits while Mister Filch and select Professors attempted to return order to the Great Hall. Judging by their expressions of concern and delight, Minerva concluded that Filch and the "Select Professors" weren't having much luck.

For some bizarre reason, this had compelled her to drop by and offer some support.

"Dear God." she murmured as she walked through the doors. "It's like I've walked into a Jackson Pollock painting."

At the very least, it became apparent that Minerva's Perpetuating Charm had been effective. Food of every colour, texture and description coated the walls, furniture and floor. Even the ceiling, in all its enchanted glory, was barely visible under the impromptu salmagundi. A few hundred candles had therefore been lit to allow the Select Professors a chance to work. Their progress was somewhat impeded by the various conjured animals and spells still lurking about the room.

On Minerva's right, Professor Vector was attempting to herd a flock of penguins together so she could vanish them. On her left, Hagrid was wrestling with a fairly lively chair that was attempted to reach Professor Sinistra. Professor Sinistra was, in turn, attempting to use various incantations to return the thing to its original state, none of which were having great effect. Unsurprisingly, Peeves was taunting Filch by the teachers table. The occasional, livelier, piece of food was letting out a half-hearted hop, while various birds and rodents still darted around. Various different coloured mists were also lying in wait around the room, probably sent out by students wishing to create even more chaos.

"Afternoon Professor!" Hagrid greeted roughly before tossing the chair he was trying to restrain against a nearby wall. It immediately leapt back up and went for Professor Sinistra. It was behaving in an oddly… libidinous fashion. "How are yer?" Hagrid continued casually as he once again lunged for the chair.

"F-fine, Hagrid." Minerva stuttered. Professor Sinistra squeaked and ran out of the way as the chair fought towards her. "Hagrid, you can just destroy that chair you know." she told him. Hagrid grinned at her and immediately put a fist through the chair, shattering it into a dozen, inanimate pieces.

Professor Sinistra sighed in relief, putting her hand to her chest. "Delores told us not to destroy anything." she said bitterly.

"I'd like ter see her in here though." Hagrid added, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Still, we're makin progress, wouldn't yer say?" he commented.

If that was them making progress, Minerva was deeply concerned as to what the room had been like when they got there. She glanced around and took a quick tally in her head. Sinistra, Vector, Hagrid and Filch. Sinistra and Vector had refused to move for Delores that morning and she had made no secret about the fact she hated Hagrid. So that was what the Ravenclaws had meant about 'Select Professors'.

Minerva sighed and rolled up her sleeves. "Well, I suppose we'd better get to work." she said grimly.

**5:01 PM  
****-A Slightly Less Jackson-Pollock-Reminiscent Great Hall-**

Get to work was exactly what they did. In the process they found forty-three birds, seventeen mice, fourteen Macaroni Penguins, three biting chairs, two anti-gravity mists, one cloud of garrotting gas, three dungbombs, half-a-dozen enchanted plates and, for some reason, a bar of frog spawn soap.

Surprisingly, the Macaroni Penguins turned out to be the trickiest things to get rid of. Since they had obviously been conjured by the same person they seemed to have an almost psychic connection, often co-ordinating their attacks so they continued to elude capture. Eventually, Professor Sinistra snapped.

"That's it! Enough! I hereby adopt the penguins! They are my penguins! I claim them forevermore and give them permission to wander the castle freely until the end of their days!" she announced loudly, just as Professor Snape entered the room. He sneered and went to say something. "Oh shut up, you smarmy git." Sinistra snapped before he could even draw breath.

Perhaps it was her sharp tone, perhaps it was the obvious stress she was experiencing, or perhaps it was that even Severus Snape could not bring himself to insult someone who had string beans in their hair, splinters in their arm from an attack my an amorous dining chair, and fourteen penguins shuffling around their feet. So instead of a quick barb, he simply nodded curtly and looked past Sinistra. Quite the anti-climax really.

Minerva glanced ruefully up at the ceiling. Those food stains were going to be a pain to get down, she noted. She was either going to need excellent aim or a broomstick… if she'd been a few years younger the aim wouldn't have been an issue, but now…

"Delores would like to know when the Great Hall will be re-opened." Severus informed them all with annoyance. "She would also like it if we kept this little incident as quiet as possible, apparently."

Sinistra gaped at him in disbelief. "Quiet? _Quiet!_ There are been bomb sites left more intact than this place and that old bat wants us to keep this _quiet_?" she cried angrily. Severus nodded once to confirm it. Auriga threw her hands up in the air. "Oh to hell with it. WHY can't we curse her?" she demanded. "Would somebody tell me? Because I seem to have forgotten."

Vector appeared to consider it for a moment, while Severus was looking at Professor Sinistra with something akin to affection. "Well," Professor Vector concluded after a moment's thought. "She'd probably land you in Azkaban for starters."

"Not if you added a Memory Charm." Hagrid pointed out.

"Exactly." Sinistra agreed vehemently. "Besides, the trial would probably take about six months. By which point Azkaban will probably be bloody empty anyway." she muttered as she began brushing foodstuffs off her robes.

Minerva smiled slightly at her and went back to looking at the ceiling. It was going to be annoying all right… Maybe if she had a broom…

"Why does she want to know when the Hall will be open again anyway?" Professor Vector asked curiously. "Bit early for dinner isn't it?"

Severus apparently disagreed. "It's after five o'clock." he said disparagingly.

Minerva's head snapped around. "What!"

"I said, it's after five o'clock." he repeated, as though explaining the concept to a three year old.

She swore under her breath and stuffed her wand away.

Severus smirked. "Ah. That evening meeting I take it? How very careless of you to forget Minerva."

"Snape. Shut up." Minerva snapped. "You can take care of this, can't you?" she asked Vector, Sinistra and Hagrid. "I mean you've got Severus here to help now. You'll be fine."

Secure in this knowledge, she sped for the door. Or she sped as much as was possible given the chaotic state of the room. She weaved her way through broken furniture and plates, while trying to avoid several Penguins and the occasional ocean of soup. Her colleagues looked on, bewildered.

As she left the room, the last thing she heard was, "You know, I bet she's got a date…"

**5:06 PM  
****-The Entrance Hall-**

Minerva hurried out into the Entrance Hall. A group of students were loitering, with a melancholy air about them and expressions of overwhelming annoyance that only a teenager who has missed lunch can truly carry off. They looked hopefully up at her but seemed to realise immediately that she was not there to tell them that dinner was served.

By the front doors, Professor Umbridge was speaking in hushed tones with the Aurors, Proudfoot and Dawlish. All three looked sharply over at her.

"Minerva? May I ask where you think you're going?" Umbridge asked sweetly. "The Great Hall is still inaccessible-"

"The Great Hall is a great deal more accessible than it was an hour ago Delores. There's very little left to be done. I have to go." Minerva snapped, without slowing down.

"I beg your pardon?" Umbridge demanded.

Minerva stopped in her tracks at the foot of the Marble Staircase. She fixed her very best glower upon her face and turned to look back at Delores. "I have things to do, Delores." she said curtly, well aware that everyone in the Entrance Hall was now watching the exchange with obvious interest. "Important thing. Such as my job. My job, which as of this moment, no longer includes cleaning up after your incompetence."

She turned on her heel and swept up the stairs.

Behind her, she almost heard the steam hissing out Delores's ears.

**5:12 PM  
****-Bedroom Quarters-**

"Ah! Minnie darling, where have you been? Vi from the antechamber was just telling me the most unusual-" Minerva strode straight through her room and into her en-suite bathroom without sparing a glance at Driscoll.

She intended to have a quick shower before she left. It was a shame that she hadn't remembered her appointment sooner though, as showers generally annoyed her. For some reason she never came out of one feeling as clean as she did when she came out of a bath. Nor did she feel anywhere near as relaxed. It was, however, a price she'd have to pay.

She emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, clad in a towelling robe. She made and immediate beeline for her dressing table. Minerva loathed getting ready for these sorts of appointments. It always had the remarkable quality of making her regress to the age of thirteen. That same awkwardness, and self-awareness, that made life hell at that age somehow managed to invade her mind each and every time she sat in front of her dressing table, and realised that for once, a basic tight bun and a hat were not an acceptable hairstyle. Bitterness infusing every part of her, she proceeded to dry her hair and charm it into a ridiculously elaborate, and intensely annoying, bun. There were curls, there were twists, there were tendrils that framed her face… It was all very elegant.

It made her want to curse something, truth be told.

Sighing to herself, Minerva turned her attention to the horror that was make-up. Surprisingly, Driscoll was being relatively quiet. She actually checked to see if he was still in the frame or not, as it was rare for him to shut up when he saw her. She was thankful for small mercies, however.

"So…" he said coyly. "Any plans for the evening?"

Knew it was too good to last, she thought. "Yes." she answered curtly, "I am."

Without another word to Driscoll, she began glowering at the lipstick in her hand. After a moment Minerva rolled her eyes. She was going to have to surrender to the fact that make-up was beyond her. She dumped the lipstick into a wastepaper basket with an unceremonious thump. The rest of her pitiful make-up selection quickly followed. She snatched up a tube of _Sorcière Charmante Luminescent Moisturiser for Mature Skin_ and applied it liberally. God knew it was easier than the rest of that war paint.

She'd never been comfortable with all that… girly stuff. While Olive Hornby (the Pansy Parkinson of her day) had been giggling over boys, eye shadow, and Witch Weekly, Minerva had been studying to become an Animagus and reading Hogwarts a History. It wasn't that she had anything against the girly stuff, just that it wasn't her cup of tea.

Which was why, when she finished making her face look as presentable as it was going to (she always had been more 'striking' and 'handsome', than she had been 'beautiful' and 'pretty'), she actually had to struggle to remember what came next.

"Clothing?" Driscoll suggested cheekily. "Or will you be sporting a bathrobe all evening?"

She sent him a glare, but was oddly thankful all the same. It would have to be muggle clothing, of course, but Minerva wasn't worried. She had Muggle clothing.

She threw open her wardrobe.

She did have muggle clothing. In there. Somewhere. She hoped. She prayed.

"Try the very back. On the left."

If that bloody portrait kept this up, she was going to have to admit to liking him, Minerva thought darkly. And that was simply unacceptable. She had been firm in her hatred of Driscoll since day one. The unwavering animosity with which she regarded him was rivalled only by the unwavering animosity with which she regarded Decaffeinated Tea.

Well… except those times during the war when he'd run down to the kitchen and had tea (or occasionally alcohol) sent up for her, when she'd wept in her room. And that time he'd reported to Dumbledore that she was too ill to go to Christmas dinner and could he therefore send up some dinner and crackers. Or that time he'd told her about seeing Neville's boggart in the Staff room. Or those times he'd gotten gossip from the Headmaster's office without telling Dumbledore. Or the nights he had Hot Chocolate sent to her room because he thought she'd had a long day. Or that one night he shut up. True she'd put a silencing charm on him, but peace and quiet was peace and quiet.

Gritting her teeth, Minerva realised he was actually trying to be helpful, in his own garrulous, multiloquent, irritating sort of way. She called out a stiff, "Thank you Driscoll." in appreciation.

He was so shocked he nearly fell out of his frame.

Within another five minutes she was clad in black woollen trousers and an old gold-coloured silk blouse. Her regular black leather shoes would have to do however, as she was quickly running out of time. Satisfied, she headed for the door.

"Jewellery!" Driscoll called after her. "And Perfume! You never wear that stuff."

Minerva growled and turned back into the room. A few puffs of perfume and a couple of gold rings later, she made for the exit once again.

"And take a coat! It's raining!" Driscoll ordered.

Once again, Minerva froze in her tracks and turned back into the room. "When, precisely, did you turn into my mother Driscoll?" she asked him sourly, as she summoned an old muggle coat out from the very back of her wardrobe.

"Well if you'd rather get a cold." he said huffily.

Muttering to herself, Minerva studied old double-breasted coat that now rested in her hands. It had been fashionable in the forties, but now she wasn't so sure.

Driscoll waved his hand airily, apparently sensing her hesitation. "If anyone asks, tell them its vintage." he told her. "Now hurry up! You're going to be late!"

Minerva bit her tongue this time and cast a quick cleaning spell on the coat (it had been in there for a very long time, after all). She put her wand down on the dressing table and shrugged on the coat. As soon as she did, she wondered why on earth anyone would bother with an ill-fitting, showy and utterly superfluous cloak when a muggle coat was really much more suitable.

Leaving that sort of pondering for another day, Minerva marched towards the door for, hopefully, the last time. Nonetheless, she slowed as she reached the door. Not a word escaped Driscoll's lips, until her hand touched the door.

"You won't be needing your wand then?" he asked her blithely.

Her wand. She'd left it on the dressing table. Allowing her head to fall forward in exasperation, Minerva sighed. "Driscoll, why do you do this to me? Surely it would be easier to just tell me to begin with what I was missing, wouldn't it?"

"Easier, certainly." Driscoll agreed as he rearranged the bright purple top-hat that rested upon his head. "But not nearly as much fun."

**5:41 PM  
****-The Entrance (or, more accurately, Exit) Hall-**

It had taken her five more trips to the door to get out of her room. From the genuinely necessary call-backs ("You're going to need some muggle money, surely.") to the truly ridiculous ("You're not taking some Veritaserum antidote? Are you daft?"). However Minerva could now safely say that she had prepared for most eventualities. True, if the Ministry kidnapped her and forced truth serum down her throat, she'd be forced to answer all questions honestly. But since she'd already done that with the Ministry, she didn't see it as much of a problem. Driscoll had also engaged her in the great "To take the glasses or not" debate. The glasses had won out in the end, but only because Minerva had spent too many years finally getting comfortable with the things to abandon them for vanity's sake now.

The Entrance Hall was not more or less deserted, save the occasional student drifting into the Great Hall for dinner. Long shadows left most of the hall in darkness though, and the bleak weather did little to improve the visibility. So Minerva supposed that she could have been entirely imagining the sensation that she was being watched. She could have been. But she somehow doubted it.

She marched confidently towards the dungeons as though she hadn't a care in the world. The back of her neck was tingling and most of her attention was fixed on her peripheral vision. She could have sworn she was a movement on her right. One which certainly didn't belong to a student. No student moved so stealthily or with quite so much purpose. Not even James Potter had managed to creep around on marble floors without making a sound.

An Auror, she realised. She was being watched by an Auror.

How delightful.

Dumbledore had once told her that there are points in everyone's life where they must choose between Good Sense, Good Manners, and Good Fun. Minerva had believed him at the time and had often remembered the statement with a small smile of acknowledgement. It was, after all, true. Good Sense dictated that Minerva continue down into the dungeons, use the back exit down there, and travel the winding road down to the lake in her cat form, as she had originally intended. Good Manners dictated that Minerva return to her Bedroom Quarters and admit defeat, as she'd been marked by an Auror.

Good Fun dictated that she head straight for the Front Doors.

A small smirk flitted across her face as she pulled on the heavy door.

**5:43 PM  
****-The Front Lawns-**

Minerva walked briskly down the stone steps, pulling up her hood as she went and silently thanking Driscoll's mothering tendencies as the cold rain hit her face. She made her way down the long path that led to Hogsmeade and was nearly out of sight of the castle when she heard the front door creak open and spotted a dark figure emerge.

She kept walking until she was out of sight, and then dove into the bushes where she transformed. Turning into an animal was a peculiar sensation when it was inflicted upon you by an outside source, such as being turned into a ferret by a demented Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, for example. However when you did it yourself, it felt as natural as stretching. In fact there were times when it was nothing short of freeing, which was how Minerva felt about it this time.

She bared her claws and allowed them to sink into the dirt beneath her feet. When she compared it with being constantly on the alert to see if Umbridge was after her… well, safe to say it was the most relaxed she'd been all day.

Glancing around her environs, Minerva noted three important things. Firstly, the foliage in which she was lurking was dense enough at the bottom to leave her more or less concealed. Secondly, Proudfoot was hurrying along after her without paying any particular attention to where he was going. And thirdly, there was a steep downwards slope by the side of the path, which (thanks to the days less-than-brilliant weather) had been transformed into nothing but mud, which led sharply down to yet more mud.

Really, she didn't have any choice in the matter as she darted out of the bushes. Nor did she have any choice as she skilfully entangled herself in his feet, sending him tumbling down into the mire below. She may have had a small choice in how long she chose to stand there gloating, but only a small one.

When at last Minerva's smugness had been sated, she let out a contended purr and trotted off down the path. Sure, she was now running the risk of being slightly late for dinner, but it was more than worth it in her opinion.

**5:56 PM  
****-London-**

She appeared in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron a few minutes later, a small smirk still lingering on her face.

The first thing Minerva noticed was that the papers really hadn't been lying about the heat in London. She had been there for only a few seconds and already the temperature was getting to her. She also noted that she was dripping wet, but a quick charm took care of that nicely. She pulled off her coat, opened the back door and entered the dilapidated old pub.

"Evening Professor McGonagall!" Tom the barman greeted her cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing just now Tom." she responded politely. "Just moving through."

"Right-o." he said, before going back to wiping down the bar.

Pleased that he hadn't tried to make more conversation, Minerva walked straight through the pub and out onto the busy muggle street. Not a single person glanced at her, all far too consumed in their own lives to care much for hers. This suited Minerva fine.

She glanced upwards and caught sight of a clock tower in the distance. She was going to be a few minutes late if she didn't hurry. Unusual for her, certainly, but forgivable under the circumstances. After all, she challenged anyone to have the day she'd had and keep better time. Still, she walked briskly onto the next street and did not slow down for such petty trivialities as a frazzled looking family with eight screaming children in her way. In fact she very nearly cursed a couple of the kids, just because they looked entirely too sticky for her liking and were screaming bloody murder for no good reason.

Minerva caught sight of the small Italian restaurant she was supposed to be having dinner at. "Minerva!" a delighted voice called out to her. "Thank goodness you're here, I was getting worried."

Minerva looked up to see a stately looking woman in an aubergine suit waiting for her. Emmeline Vance: Owner of Transfiguration Today and other magazines, member of the Order of the Phoenix, Capricorn, and one of Minerva's closest confidants of over fifty years. Minerva smiled warmly. "Emmeline." she greeted. "Oh. I'm so pleased to see you."

The two women hugged tightly. "Shall we?" Emmeline asked, gesturing to the Italian restaurant behind her.

"Of course."

"Marvellous." Emmeline chirped. "First things first, you can tell me all about your day."

Minerva's eyebrows shot up instantly. "Careful what you wish for." she warned.


	3. Night

**Author's Pathetically Grateful Rambling:** I must comment on the lovely reviews. They made me grin like an idiot for a good long while, not to mention feel remarkably smug. And it's all thanks to you wonderful people who reviewed. Thank you. Cheers. Merci. Gracias. Danke. Grazie. Obrigado. And so on and so forth.  
**Author's Actual Note:** Well, here we are, end of the road. -sniffle- Well… sort of. See this is the end of the fic, as there are only so many hours in a day and the whole point of this fic was for it to last only one day. _However_, I have become weirdly comfortable writing Minerva and intend to write a lot more of her, probably starting with a piece called "**The Minerva Monologues**" or something to that effect. I'm also considering turning "**Just a Random…**" into a series for various characters, just because of how much I enjoyed writing this. It's really quite fortunate that I've enjoyed writing it, given it's length, wouldn't you say?  
_However_ I need to update Time Capsule first (yes, the words "update" and "Time Capsule" in the same sentence, shocking isn't it?) and, as previously mentioned, there are only so many hours in a day, so it may take a couple of weeks for these endeavours to materialise. Because I'm selfish like that.  
Anyway, if you're vaguely interested, check my profile occasionally. If you're not even slightly interested, I'll shut up and get back to the story. Actually, I'll do that anyway. Ciao.

* * *

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**6:48 PM  
****-Agapito's Ristorante-**

It soon became apparent that Minerva need not have concerned herself so much with looking innocuous, as she would have stood out no matter what. This was due to many reasons, the first being her dining companion.

Emmeline Vance was old money, both on her muggle-born paternal grandfather's side (they invented a printing press or binding method, or some such) and her witch mother's side (The were owners of _Sorcière Charmante_ Cosmetics). As such, she did not settle for second best. So when a waitress attempted to sit them downstairs when Emmeline had specified an upstairs table in the reservations, she did not suffer it lightly. Also, for reasons unknown to Minerva, perfectly coiffed ladies in fine French fashions tended to attract the attention of the average muggle.

The second reason was largely their conversation. Emmeline had demanded to know every single detail of Minerva's day and Minerva had happily obliged. Doing so involved a lot of emphatic gesturing on her part and a lot of mad cackling on Emmeline's part. Indeed, by the time the appetisers had been cleared from their table Minerva's hair had come slightly undone, the sleeves of her blouse had been pushed up to allow for easier gesticulating on her part, and the rings that had adorned her fingers were now residing in the pockets of the coat that was slung over her chair. Emmeline had removed her fashionable jacket, revealing a cream coloured top, while her designer shoes had been slid off on the basis of being "Nothing short of torturous in this heat." All of which seemed to attract a fair amount of attention as well.

The last reason was the exceedingly strange staff at the restaurant in which they were dining. When, for example, they had ordered their starters (Minestrone and Gnocchi, respectively) the waitress had exclaimed in horror "Do you know how many calories are in that?" Naturally, both women had exchanged confused looks before asking "What on Earth is a calorie?" After an impromptu lesson in the Nature of the Calorie, both had assured the girl that, no, they did not know how many calories were in their appetisers and nor did they particularly care. This proclamation had resulted in the two of them receiving a standing ovation from the young ladies at the next table and both being asked to dinner by several handsome elderly gentlemen by the bar. They had graciously accepted the first, while declining the second point blank.

By the time they were halfway through their main course, Minerva was still ranting about her day. Not just to vent her spleen anymore either, but because Emmeline seemed genuinely interested. She cachinnated at tale of Colin Creevey's "Artistic Masterpiece" for a good five minutes, even going so far as to ask for a copy to be delivered to her office. And so, between mouthfuls of Risotto, Minerva kept talking.

"And Auriga just threw her hands up in the air and announced that she was keeping them. All of them. They are now her pets." she said despairingly. "I honestly wonder about that girl sometimes."

Heehawing away Emmeline took a sip of her wine. "Oh my." she giggled again. "My, my, my. Your life really is a great deal more interesting than mine, have I mentioned that recently?"

"Indeed you have." Minerva muttered, mirroring her companion's gesture and taking a sip of her wine. It was quite nice she supposed, but a little too sweet for her tastes. "Regrettably, I must disagree with you Emmeline. All those publications of yours, all those society parties, all those politicians-"

"All of which roughly translates to day after day communicating with people who talk incessantly, while actually saying very little of anything." Emmeline said with a despairing shake of her head. "I honestly wonder sometimes why I didn't just get a job tending bar at the Hog's Head or something. It would've been more interesting, and it's not as though I need the money, is it?"

"And I'm sure Aberforth could use the company." Minerva said in faux contemplation as she finished off her meal. Emmeline appeared to consider it for a moment before shaking her head and getting back to her own meal.

Emmeline complained about her work a lot, but Minerva knew she wouldn't trade it for the world. Not out of any overwhelming sense of attachment to her magazines, but simply because she was too much of a perfectionist to trust anyone else to run them. Minerva remembered reading a letter a few years back where Emmeline had ranted non-stop for three pages because an underling had published that weeks issue of Which Witch Fashion magazine's front page in Carmine instead of Cardinal. Minerva had been forced to write back and ask her what in Merlin's name Carmine and Cardinal was, only to be informed that they were both shades of red. Highly similar shades of red. Shades of red which, upon viewing swatches of, Minerva could not distinguish.

"So. What happened after the Great Hall incident?" Emmeline asked curiously, nibbling away on her meatballs.

"Oh nothing much. A minor spat with Delores. A er… incident involving an unscrupulous cat, a mud hill and an Auror which is really of very little consequence." she said innocently. "Did you know that they have trifle here?"

Emmeline had pinned her with a look however. "Minerva McGonagall, what did you do? And who did you do it to?"

"No one." Minerva said unconvincingly. "It's really very good trifle from what I can see. Look, they're having some over there."

"You are utterly transparent, do you know that?" Emmeline asked with a small, nostalgic smile. "You haven't become the least bit better at lying since the age of seventeen, when we were dragged into Professor Dippet's office to be asked about our _extracurricular studies_."

Minerva chuckled at the memory. Dippet, though more-or-less competent, was hardly what one would call an enlightened Headmaster. After four year of trying, Minerva and Emmeline had been called into his office to explain to him why they had yet to return that book on Advanced Transfiguration they'd taken out in second year while also clarifying just what they were doing in disused classrooms that resulted in their frequent arrival in the Hospital Wing with fur and feathers. If memory served, Minerva had told him that they were working on a party trick. He'd actually bought it as well, until Minerva had commented to her companion in a sotto voice; "My God, he actually believed it."

Emmeline had never quite let her forget that little slip.

"Is Filch still there?" Emmeline asked curiously, pulling Minerva out of her reverie.

Minerva groaned. "Oh yes. Quite definitely. Him and that bloody cat." she said harshly. Emmeline laughed.

"I'm guessing he's not your closest friend and confidant at the school then?" she asked coyly.

"Dumbledore was my closest friend and confidant." Minerva said simply. "Followed by Pomona. Followed by Poppy. Followed, strangely enough, by Snape." she smirked. "And I'm probably his closest confidant, save Sinistra and Dumbledore. Not that he'd ever admit it." she said.

Emmeline seemed surprised. "He talks to you a lot then?"

Minerva nodded. "About work related things. You see he talks to, or rather _talked_ to, Albus about his… er… other engagements." Emmeline nodded in understanding. "He talks to Auriga about pretty much everything else, and he talks to me about the students he'd dearly like to jinx. Why, just yesterday I was treated to an hour long rant about Harry Potter."

Emmeline laughed. "He's a strange man, that Snape. Actually, I remember him when he was younger. He's always been strange." she amended.

It was Minerva's turn to laugh. The conversation took a temporary lull while both participants ate their food. Minerva, personally, was pondering the strangeness of Severus Snape. This soon translated to her pondering the strangeness of Theodore Nott who was, basically, the mini-Snape, which in turn led to her pondering Daphne Greengrass.

Emmeline had merely been watched one of the waitresses flirt unsuccessfully with a customer, with mild amusement, but the expression on Minerva's face must have caught her attention.

"Deep thoughts?" she inquired.

Minerva blinked a few times and looked up at her. "Hmm?"

Emmeline shrugged. "Well, you appeared to be drifting off into a world which dare not be perused by we mere mortals." she smiled. "Something on your mind? Uh, besides the reigning chaos at your place of work and rising blood pressure you're no doubt experiencing, I hasten to add."

Minerva smiled. "I did go on a bit, didn't I?" she admitted.

"Yes." Emmeline said. "You did. But if you hadn't I would have pestered you until you did, so don't worry."

"Fair enough."

"Just like I will pester you mercilessly unless you tell me what it is that's preoccupying you at the moment." she continued.

Minerva shook her head. "It's nothing. Really." Emmeline sent her a look. "It's just… Well there's this girl, in one of my classes. She sort of - well she confuses me quite a bit. But really, it's not important." Emmeline had a look of resolve on her face which usually meant that Minerva was going to be forced to spill her guts within moments. Still, Minerva McGonagall was nothing if not stubborn and she could feign ignorance with the best of them. "That trifle looks good, doesn't it?" she commented. "I think I'll have to try some for dessert."

"Tell me everything." Emmeline commanded.

Minerva tilted her head curiously. "About what?"

"Minerva, you do remember how ticklish you really are, don't you?" she threatened quietly.

That was pretty much all it took. Minerva started explaining. Everything from the hair slide incident, to the heartfelt denial of any association with Voldemort, right up to every Professor Snape had told her. Or rather, neglected to tell her. Emmeline absorbed it all with her usual poise and understanding, remaining completely silent throughout. By the time Minerva was finished telling her everything, a waiter had come to clear away their plates and take their orders for dessert. "And so basically, this girl is being persecuted from all sides since heaven knows, no other houses ever associate with Slytherins."

"You said she was friendly with Amelia's niece." Emmeline pointed out.

"Well yes, but that's very rarely. Slytherins and Hufflepuffs have very contradictory timetables, if you recall."

"True." Emmeline agreed. "That was Pomona's reason for never getting a date with Tom Riddle, if I remember rightly." she said nostalgically. "I wonder what ever happened to him?"

Minerva could have told her, in abundant detail, what happened to him. Instead she commented "I wonder what ever happened to our waiter. Surely the trifle had already been made?"

"You would think." Emmeline said, scanning the restaurant for signs of the waiter. When she found none she shrugged and turned back to Minerva. "Clearly, you need to keep an eye on this Malfoy boy. And not just because he's some little Death Eater in training, but because he clearly has a lot of influence in Slytherin and shouldn't feel any need to… you know…" she gestured vaguely.

"Inflict." Minerva finished for her. "Yes, I quite agree."

"You know I just bet they end up dating." Emmeline said quixotically.

Minerva sent her a withering look. "I credit Daphne with a bit more taste than that." she said.

Emmeline waved her hand dismissively. "Not immediately of course. That would be ridiculous. But later. Once he's been brought down to Earth a bit. When -ah- certain things come out into the open, he's bound to get a wake-up-call. Besides, nothing you've told me indicates any real personality flaws in the boy, aside from being a bit spoilt."

"Understatement of the millennium." Minerva stated.

"You must admit, it would be quite poetic." Emmeline said contemplatively. "He lusts after her for all those years-"

"Months. He's been lusting after her for months. Ever since she developed a bust."

"-She sees him as nothing more than the loathsome antagonist-"

"A fairly accurate description, really."

"-And then one day, after both have grown up a bit and learned to deal with things no children should ever have to deal with, they come to realise their shared destiny."

"Oh good grief."

"It would be terribly unusual and romantic."

"It would be Lily and James. Albeit with a great deal more purple prose." Minerva said in a cutting tone. "Really, Emmeline, for a sensible woman you really do become rather foolish about such things." she commented, taking a drink of her wine and resisting the urge to kick her companion.

Emmeline smiled. "I think I have every right to get silly on occasion." she said. "It keeps me young."

"That a couple of litres of your mother's beauty concoctions." Minerva remarked.

Emmeline gasped in outrage, just as the trifles were being delivered.

**7:39 PM  
****-Street outside Agapito's Ristorante-**

It was a good long while before both women had finished their meals, agreed on who was paying, and finally deigned to leave the restaurant. When at last they stepped outside into the night air, the sun had nearly set and the pedestrian traffic had definitely thinned. After discussing the extremely unlikely ways in which Malfoy could hope to win Daphne's heart, ranging from creative Valentine's gifts to pretending to go blind and let her beauty "restore" him, conversation had drifted somewhat. They had, by the end of dinner, discussed the Quidditch season, the latest offers at Gladrags, the more annoying aspects of Gilderoy Lockhart books still selling well in stores, and their ink and quill preferences. It had settled, inevitably, on the ineptitude of the Ministry of Magic. Most conversations between Order Members seemed to land on that particular topic, after all.

The pair of them walked to the end of the street, with Emmeline telling a terribly amusing story about Cornelius Fudge's interview with Which Witch Magazine. In it, he discussed how he had always been keenly aware of the influence his undeniable power had over women and how he prevented his wife from getting jealous. Minerva really wondered about people on occasions.

They lingered on the corner, both unwilling to let the night end. They so rarely saw each other, after all. Minerva sighed. "Oh, fine. I'll do it. It's been lovely seeing you again Emmeline, darling." she said sweetly.

"You too, Minerva." she agreed, pulling her in for a hug.

Minerva always liked hugging Emmeline. It made her feel safe and comfortable. From her gloriously soft skin to her expensive perfume, there was something immutable about the woman. Minerva responded, wrapping her arms tightly around Emmeline and squeezing. She breathed her in and allowed herself to be comforted. It was so very rarely that she had quiet moments with her nearest and dearest, after all.

Eventually they broke apart, both smiling. "You'll come to the villa this summer?" Emmeline asked. It somehow didn't sound so much a request as it did an order, but Minerva acquiesced all the same.

"Certainly. The only reason I didn't come last year was because-"

"Because Dumbledore kept you busy with the Order, I know. But I get so very bored there by myself with all those inbred, upper-crust types." Emmeline said with a shudder.

Minerva laughed. "I'll be there if it kills me. I swear." she said. "And I'll start my next letter to you first thing tomorrow. Honestly. I'm sure more things will have irritated me by then." she quipped.

Emmeline grinned. "As sure as the sun rises." she said. "Just remember: _Nill illigitimi carborundum_."

Minerva frowned at her. "My Latin is obviously a little rusty, could you translate that for me?" she requested.

Grinning even wider, Emmeline whispered. "Rough translation? _Don't let the bastards get you down_."

**7:52 PM  
****-The Leaky Cauldron-**

Minerva strolled back to the Leaky Cauldron with her coat slung over her arm. She took care to stop and look in shop windows, and pay attention to music she heard drifting out of pubs along the way. She even tossed a few (muggle) coins in a fountain along the way, taking care to make a wish just like her mother had taught her when she was a little girl. True, Minerva sort of doubted that her mother would have approved of wishing such things on Delores Umbridge. But once she'd been informed of the entire situation and had been made to understand that it made Minerva smile just thinking about it, she would have almost certainly accepted it.

By the time she walked into the Leaky Cauldron, the sun had almost disappeared behind the buildings and most pedestrians were wandering inside as the temperature dropped a few degrees. As she entered the pub, her light and cheerful mood waned almost instantly. While the Leaky Cauldron was clean, comfortable and relatively welcoming, it most certainly was not designed to make the most out of sunny summer days. The dark atmosphere clashed spectacularly with that outside, and Minerva knew which one she preferred.

Still, it was this or Umbridge and since the pub itself was mercifully empty she wouldn't have to worry about being caught. With this in mind, she took a seat at the bar.

"Gillywater Professor?" Tom offered, appearing behind the counter as if from nowhere.

Far too used to this behaviour to be surprised, Minerva simply smiled. "That would be lovely Tom. How's Annabel? "

Tom shot her a toothless grin, his skin wrinkling up like a chamois leather as he did so. "Glad you asked that, she's just had a litter you see. I've got half a dozen little kitties, scampering around back there. I'll just fetch that Gillywater for you. " he said, and immediately began rummaging around underneath the counter as Minerva settled herself in.

The back door swung open. Minerva's eyes snapped over to the doorway to see if the new intruder was someone she should worry about. It wasn't. It was a slightly harassed looking Weasley twin and a pretty blonde girl that Minerva had never seen before. She was chatting away merrily, apparently unconcerned as to whether or not the redhead was listening to her.

The twin, whichever one it was, strode straight for a booth and took a seat. He looked exceedingly pained when the blonde girl took a seat next to him and looked downright suicidal when she showed no signs of shutting up. Minerva tried not to laugh.

"Here we are Professor." Tom said brightly, reappearing with her emerald green drink in hand.

Minerva took it and thanked him. "Tom?" she asked before he could go back to tidying up. "Who's that?"

Tom looked over to where she was looking and chuckled as he saw the blonde girl. "That, my dear Professor, is June Jewkes. She lives in London. Was home educated if memory serves. She got a job with them Weasley boys a few weeks back, and seems to have set her sights on that one."

June placed her hand on the twin's arm and continued talking. The poor boy, whichever one it was, made some pithy comment in response. June gave a loud, vivacious and blatantly fake laugh, before placing her other hand on his arm as well. The twin dragged his hand down his face and appeared to be on the brink of a nervous breakdown. He glanced over at the bar absentmindedly and called "Two Butterbeers please Tom." without looking over.

"Oh you sweetie! You didn't have to buy me one!" June squealed.

"I didn't. George will be here in a minute." the twin, who was evidently Fred, said darkly.

Rather than take this as a deep insult and tell him to go walk in traffic, as Minerva would have done at her age, June decided that giggling was the appropriate response to this statement. "Oh you two," she chirped. "You're practically joined at the hip. It's almost impossible to get you on your own!"

Fred winced. "Well yeah, that was pretty much the plan." he muttered.

Minerva sniggered into her Gillywater. Fred, who apparently had ears like a bat, immediately zeroed in on her with a glare. As he realised who it was, as look crossed his face as though he'd just spotted the Messiah. Minerva felt her eyes widen as she began frantically searching for a way out. She would not save Fred Weasley from his stalker, she would not save Fred Weasley from his stalker, she would not save…

"Professor McGonagall!" Fred beamed. He sprang to his feet and practically pounced on the seat next to her. "Professor McGonagall. So good to see you. You're looking lovely this evening. How's Hogwarts? How's Professor Flitwick? Hmm? And Sprout? And Snape? Transfiguration going well? Tell me everything. In detail. Please." he requested.

A little shell-shocked at this stream of questions, Minerva simply made a few vowel sounds and nodded pleasantly. June appeared by Fred's arm, glaring at Minerva with distaste.

"Here are your drinks." Tom greeted pleasantly, placing Fred's Butterbeers on the countertop before moving swiftly to the other end of the bar. As he went he made sure to hiss a heartfelt "Good luck" at Minerva.

In the meantime, Fred had seemingly decided that his old Head of House's conversation skill weren't up to scratch, and so he was having a mostly one-sided conversation where he introduced her to June. "Professor McGonagall here was my very favourite teacher at Hogwarts you know." he said in earnest. "We were so sorry to leave her."

"Is that so?" June asked, still glaring daggers at Minerva herself.

For her part Minerva quirked an eyebrow. "Your very favourite teacher?" she quoted under her breath.

"You will be if you get me out of this." Fred muttered back.

Minerva rolled her eyes. She figured she may as well get it over with. "Oh yes, Fred here was a wonderful student!" she cooed in a syrupy tone that made Weasley do a double-take. "He and his brother were simply marvellous at Transfiguration. There wasn't an assignment set they couldn't do in a heartbeat!" Which was, at least, true. The fact that they preferred performing experiments on animals to transfiguring them was neither here nor there.

"Terrific." June commented flatly. She turned back to Fred (who was gaping at Minerva like she'd just beamed in from another Planet) and tossed her hair flirtatiously. "Hadn't we best be going back to the table for when George gets here?" she asked sweetly.

Fred blinked. "Er…"

Minerva was faced with a very difficult choice: Save the little git who'd knocked about three years off her life with his various antics for seven straight years… or watch him suffer?

"Fred?" June said emphatically, indicating that he'd better hurry up and answer.

Even Fred's freckles paled. His eyes darted around the room, and he shot the occasional pleading glance at Minerva. "Um…"

"What?"

"Well… I… Er…"

"Say!" Minerva cut in loudly. "How's your brother been? I was curious to see this business of yours as well, as there were a few products I wanted to sample." she stated in the friendliest voice she could muster.

Fred looked like he could've kissed her. "Yes! Yes. Certainly. Of course. Right away. You don't mind June do you? No? Good. Well then I'll see you tomorrow. Come with me Professor McGonagall."

He reached out and clamped his hand down on Minerva's arm, and proceeded to drag her towards the back door. Minerva stumbled a bit, trying to get her bearings in her heeled boots on the highly polished floor. She reached out and snatched her coat from the barstool it had been placed on, thanking God that it caught her eye as she almost certainly would have forgotten otherwise. Minerva ended up having to prop herself up on Fred's arm just to stay upright until her feet connected firmly with the ground.

Back at the bar, June looked as though she was going to protest. Whether she did or not, Minerva never knew, as she was out the door too fast to see.

**7:58 PM  
****-Outside Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes-**

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Fred chanted for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past minute.

They would have made quite an odd sight, Minerva supposed, to anyone who happened to be looking. Fortunately, there were no stores left open on Diagon Alley and so the only person that saw them was George Weasley as he was locking up the store. Minerva really wondered what had to be going through his head as he turned around to see his twin brother on his knees, with her arms wrapped around his old Transfiguration Professor's waist, chanting the phrase "Thank you" over and over and over again. She supposed it would have been an odd enough sight under normal circumstances, but when said Transfiguration Professor was wearing muggle clothing and had elaborately styled hair that was slowly deteriorating into a loose waves, it could hardly lessen the strangeness of the sight. Added to that was the fact that Minerva did not have use of her arms as they were pinned to her sides by Fred's vice-like grip around her waist.

So really, when she thought about it, she shouldn't have been surprised at George's expression of mildly terrified bewilderment. At the time, however, it simply annoyed her.

"Weasley! If you don't get your idiot brother off of me, I can personally assure you that no one will ever have trouble distinguishing the pair of you again." she called over to him. "They'll simply look for the one with the extensive facial scarring!"

George had apparently been paralysed by the sight and was quite useless. However Fred bounced to his feet, gave Minerva a kiss on the cheek and practically skipped over to his twin. Minerva glared daggers at his retreating form but they went unnoticed. George saw though, and looked more than a little frightened.

"She's brilliant, do you know that?" Fred announced. "She should be deified. We should build a shrine for her or something."

George articulated himself with a refreshingly succinct "Er…?" Minerva just rolled her eyes and attempted to fix her hair.

"She saved me from June." Fred explained, as he snatched the keys off his brother and set about unlocking the store. The astoundingly bright, and colourful which, now that she looked at it properly, made Minerva's head spin.

A look of understanding dawned on George's face. He looked over to Minerva with a wicked grin on his face. "I bet you wouldn't have done it if you'd know how, ah, grateful he'd be."

"Bloody right I wouldn't." Minerva muttered, as she straightened her blouse. She glanced up to where George was snickering and Fred was unlocking the store and remembered that she would need Wizard Money before she bought anything.

She quickly began searching her pockets for her moneybag.

"What are you doing?" George asked his brother curiously. Minerva didn't spare them a look. She knew that blasted thing had to be in there somewhere. She couldn't have possibly left Hogwarts without it with Driscoll watching over her all the time.

"I'm opening the store. Giving the dear Professor that tour she asked for." Fred said cheerily. "We got away from June by saying she wanted to buy things, and while we know that's a crock of dung we might as well put on a show in case she comes back." he added in a slightly quieter voice.

Minerva looked up sharply as her hands wrapped around the black velvet moneybag. She cleared her throat. "It most certainly is not a crock." she corrected Fred harshly, marching up to the Entrance. "I have some shopping to do. And after that little performance of yours I'm expecting a discount too." Minerva stated, strolling straight for the open door and right past the two stunned Weasley twins.

**8:00 PM  
****-Inside Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes-**

Minerva was pleasantly surprised upon entering the premises. Yes, the store was a bit brighter and more colourful than anything she'd ever witnessed after the sixties, and yes several items of merchandise sent her teacher instincts aflutter. But aside from that, it was quite the well oiled machine. The till was by the door, but didn't impede the Entrance (a pet peeve of Minerva's, which became particularly apparent whenever she entered Madam Malkin's). The actual products were well laid out, giving the average shopper the opportunity to browse with ease while still making them want to rush up to the shelves and investigate everything closer. Hell, they'd even alphabetised. There was really nothing to complain about.

Fred and George slipped in behind her, wearing the expressions they used to reserve for when they'd just been caught, say for example, stuffing the Slytherin Quidditch captain into a vanishing cabinet and were expecting a fury worse than Hades from her.

"What's your delivery like?" she asked sharply.

Her only response was a baffled "Er…" She shook her heard and allowed her gaze to wander over the rest of the goods.

Next to the Portable Swamps, there was a product called Conveyable Canals for deployment in hallways. _Complete with water fowl and amphibian life_, apparently. That hadn't been demonstrated at Hogwarts yet, and so she took it to be a new product. Minerva made a silent bet with herself as to whether Delores would be around long enough for someone to work up the courage to use it. She was guessing no. Fred and George had been the only students brave enough to attempt such things, though since their stunning exit it had to be said that most students were getting far more rebellious. Had Harry just been James Potter's Kid, rather than The-Boy-Who-Lived, she might have been concerned but fortunately that wasn't an issue. Or perhaps that should be unfortunately.

It was actually a pity Minerva had no intention of buying joke products. Had she been eleven years old and let loose in a store like that, she would have been at serious risk of exploding with unadulterated joy. However she was both too old for such immaturity, and too young for such immaturity, and so she stuck to examining the more useful items under the incredulous gaze of Fred and George.

Extendable-Ears caught her attention in particular. They would be terribly useful, after all. She snatched up a couple of pairs and laid them on the counter. Moving further along the aisle, something else caught her attention. Patented Daydream Charms…

"Think one of these would last a whole staff meeting?" she wonder aloud.

For the second time that evening, a look of understanding dawned on George's face. "Oooh, so Umbridge is still doing the Mein Fuhrer bit then?" he asked.

Minerva didn't answer, but then she didn't need to. Fred sighed slightly. "Sorry Professor. I really thought we could get rid of the old cow." he lamented. "If it had just been her and not her Educational Decrees and all…" he shook his head. "Never mind. One of those should do you, yeah."

Minerva grabbed half a dozen of them.

George looked impressed. "Really that bad?"

"Mister Weasley, I had to get up at six thirty this morning to discuss the "rampant illness plaguing our school" and go over ever bit of legislation passed in relation to Hogwarts in the past eighteen months." she said scathingly. "Yes, it's really that bad."

"Rampant illness?"

"Umbridge-itis."

"Ah."

Shaking her head in amusement at their flushed faces, Minerva continued browsing. She admitted to being strangely drawn to the Pygmy Puffs, but she'd be damned if she was buying one. She did have a reputation, after all.

"Still," George said cheerfully. "At least she didn't host the meeting in the afternoon. Then you'd have had one more bit of legislation to go through."

Minerva pinned him with a look. "What legislation?" she demanded.

Frowning, George moved over to the counter. He vaulted up onto it rather than go around, and stretched down to the bottom shelf behind it, rummaging around. After a moment he resurfaced, clutching the Evening Prophet. He handed the paper over to Minerva and said "Take it you haven't seen this then." he commented.

Minerva snatched the paper and scanned the front page. Underneath a large headline proclaiming record sales for the Gladrags chain, was a small article entitled "_New Ministry decree for Hogwarts_."

_Educational Decree Number Thirty One was passed earlier today after being rushed through the Ministry. The decree states that no Hogwarts staff, save the Headmistress herself, may enchant, bewitch or otherwise modify any aspect or feature of the school. It is rumoured that the decree comes after several instances of unqualified staff members attempting to improve the school. This has led to such destructive incidents as broken pipelines and poorly resurfaced flooring replicating the effects of the Glissante Charm. Indeed, any staff members found to be disregarding the new decree may find themselves in Azkaban._

_Cornelius Fudge reportedly commented that the strict endorsement of decree was entirely necessary in the interests of the safety of our children and the continued integrity of one of the best known Wizarding Schools in the world._

_The decree follows the controversial dismissal of Albus Dumbledore, a known eccentric figure who has recently fallen out of favour with the Wizarding Community as a whole due to his alleged illegal activities, which include (but are by no means limited to) the following:_

Minerva didn't read anything after that. She made a noise of disgust and slammed the worthless rag down on the counter. Her father had used to work for the Daily Prophet. He was probably doing pirouettes in his grave at that very moment.

Fred was trying to fight down a grin. "Would I be correct in assuming that the recent resurfacing which replicated the effects of the Glissante charm did so mainly because it actually was a Glissante charm?" he asked cheekily.

"Or that the burst pipeline burst at a time and place that was particularly inconvenient for the dear Headmistress?" George added.

Minerva sent them a dismissive look. "Don't be preposterous." she said. "The staff of Hogwarts are dedicated to upholding the standards of excellency and integrity set forth a millennia ago. They would never endanger that with such childish antics. Now; can this Conveyable Canal be adapted for use in the Headmistress's private quarters or would I have to adjust it myself?" she asked.

George simply beamed at her, while Fred looked as though he would very much like to kiss her again.

It took them twenty minutes to determine what Minerva did and did not need to cause comparatively effortless mayhem. It had to be effortless because, as she reminded both of them, she did have such petty trivialities as a job, an underground insurgent group, and a burning desire to sleep on occasions, all vying for her time as well. She also had quite a time convincing them that, no, she did not need a case of dung bombs and she didn't care if there _were_ complimentary.

They handed her a couple of Decoy Detonators, prototypes apparently, and told her to use them well. She got a Skiving Snack-box Selection Box, not so that she could skip staff meetings or even so that she could clandestinely distribute them amongst the student body. Rather, she got them so that she could have an assortment of cures close at hand, for the next time some idiotic first year downed one end of a Nosebleed Nougat and then dropped the other half on the way to class.

Fred and George seemed rather alarmed that anyone could possibly be "so completely thick" as to do such a thing, but Minerva assured them that it happened with startling regularity. This led to a quick discussion about idiot-proofing their future products, which amused Minerva somewhat. Evidently the Weasley twins were still too young to realise that nothing on this green and verdant Earth would ever be completely idiot proof. Still, she let them continue in their delusion.

She did deign to purchase a Blaze Box, with the intention of setting it off in the Staff Room the day Dumbledore returned to the school. George pointed out that this would only happen if You-Know-Who was revealed. Minerva informed him that Voldemort or no bloody Voldemort, she was celebrating when Albus got back, it was as simple as that.

A couple of other products also made their way into her purchase, alongside a few Edible Dark Marks which she solemnly swore to try and slip to Severus. And then she was done.

George drew up her receipt while Fred pondered a few things. "Won't it look a mite suspicious, you wandering back into the castle with two huge bags full of joke products?" he commented.

"Very suspicious." Minerva agreed. "Particularly seeing as how I'll be walking back with four legs and a tail. How much is that?"

George stopped putting through the order and stared at her. "You're sneaking back into Hogwarts?" he asked. "Why?"

Minerva raised her eyebrows. "Well since I had to evade an Auror to get out, I rather think someone may ask a few questions if they see me meandering back in, don't you?"

Fred nodded contemplatively. "Brings new meaning to the phrase 'pussyfooting around' doesn't it?" he commented.

Minerva resisted the urge to curse him for use of truly appalling puns and turned her attentions back to her brother. "Surely you didn't think I was asking about delivery out of morbid curiosity, did you?" she asked impatiently.

"Oh. Well." George said, pulling out a charge sheet and looking startling like Percy as he did so. "We can deliver, no problem."

"And for a reasonable fee, at that."

"But the main issue is getting it into Hogwarts."

"Which, with a little originality, shouldn't be any trouble at all."

Minerva felt oddly inclined to back away slowly. Fred and George had, quite clearly, just entered one of their Mind Melding sessions, or whatever the hell it was they did when they got like this. Each had a monomaniac gleam in their eyes and was finishing the other's sentences as though they were, in actuality, one being forced through certain circumstances to occupy two bodies.

"I'm thinking innocuous packaging-"

"But labelled so that the good Professor knows what they are-"

"Maybe a view concealment charms-"

"And a shield charm to prevent magical leakages en route-"

"A distraction on the day of delivery would be helpful-"

"We could get Ginny to cover us with Umbridge-"

"She'd be more than willing if we offered her something she'd like in return-"

"Filch would be harder to get rid of-"

"But we could use the old fall back of threatening his cat-"

"Which is trickier to do from the other end of the country-"

"But certainly not impossible-"

"A threatening note I'm thinking-"

"Made from newspaper cuttings-"

"And sent anonymously-"

"Threatening a poisoning-"

"Should get rid of him-"

"We could offer this as a service you know-"

"Not the distractions but the innocuous packaging-"

"The distractions would be too tricky to orchestrate-"

"But for the dear Professor here-"

"Excuse me!" Minerva cut in, using her most threatening tone. Two identical heads turned to look at her, apparently surprised at her continued presence.

"Yeeees?" they inquired simultaneously, reminding her eerily of a scene out of Lewis Carroll.

Straightening despite her rising discomfort, Minerva curbed their plans. "It's not that I don't appreciate the entrepreneurial spirit, because I most certainly do. Rather, I feel compelled to inform you that an unmarked box arriving directly to my quarters tomorrow night will suffice. Thank you. Now how much is delivery?"

Both boys looked crestfallen and oddly deflated. It was heartbreaking in a strange way.

George was first to speak. "But… won't Umbridge find it? Wouldn't you lose your job?"

"I most certainly will not." Minerva sniffed. "She wouldn't be able to stop it at night, even if she was aware of it, and even then she definitely wouldn't come to me and demand to see it."

"Why not?"

Minerva adopted her most fearsome expression and practically growled. "She wouldn't dare."

Both Fred and George seemed extremely impressed by this statement. A fact Minerva found strange, since Delores had been distinctly more afraid of them than she had ever been, or would ever be, of Minerva. Delores Umbridge was the type of person who feared what she didn't understand and what she couldn't control. Since she would never understand the nerve or daring displayed by Fred and George, or the iconoclastic tendency to rock the boat, or the fierce loyalty that meant so much to the Weasley temperament, she was automatically going to fear them. And since she quite certainly couldn't control them, they had probably terrified her for a good long while. And yet still they seemed impressed with the fact that Minerva could intimidate the little toad.

Not that she was complaining.

"Professor McGonagall, don't take this the wrong way, but if you were eighteen again…" Fred said in an oddly dreamy tone. George seemed inclined to agree.

Minerva rolled her eyes at both of them. "Don't flatter yourself Weasley." she told him. Reaching into her coat, she dumped half the contents of her money bag on the counter and snatched up her receipt, stuffing it into her coat pocket. "Send the change along with my purchase, thank you." she instructed. Before either could respond she had exited the store and promptly Disapparated.

**8:27 PM  
****-12 Grimmauld Place-**

Apparating into Grimmauld Place was always what one could call an "experience". Given the decidedly edgy disposition of many of the occupants, you usually had to raise a shield charm the second you got there to prevent having various appendages cursed off. As Mundungus Fletcher learned the hard way. Additionally, it was always interesting to see what you would pop up in the middle of. Be it a screaming argument, a battle plan, a tea party, or an average evening playing chess by the fire, the was usually something going on.

Paradoxically, whenever you arrived and there was absolutely nothing going on it tended to be the greatest indicator of impending or immediate doom.

However when Minerva appeared in the living room, she was pleased to find definite signs of activity. Not particularly productive activity, but activity nonetheless. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had their wands pointed at her throat and looks of thunder upon their faces. These expressions quickly cleared into polite smiles as they sheathed their wands and went back to their game of chess, where Sirius was being thoroughly trounced. Forethought wasn't his strong point.

"Evening Professor." both greeted. Minerva returned the greeting.

The windows of the stuffy living room were flung wide open to tempt the breeze inside, while a pitcher of iced something-or-other sat next to the chess board. "Lemonade?" Remus offered.

"Please." Minerva agreed, dumping her coat on the couch and taking the glass from Remus.

Sirius was watching her with an odd expression, but she ignored him. "Anything I should be informed about?" she asked.

Remus thought about it for a minute or so. "Nothing really. Nymphadora said there were rumours of Aurors being sent to Hogwarts, but she was having trouble confirming it."

"Hmm. Already happened. Dawlish, Proudfoot and Kingsley." she said, taking a sip of her lemonade. It was a bit too sweet for her liking but still palatable.

She was surprised to see Remus's expression darken as he heard the names of the Aurors, but her surprise vanished as she recalled an incident many years ago of Dawlish attempted to 'out' Remus's werewolf status at school. Since this had occurred during Remus's first year and Dawlish's seventh year, a certain animosity had obviously carried over. Under such circumstances, Sirius could usually be trusted to come up with some remark or another about the offending party. Not necessarily to soothe Remus or anything, just because Sirius was so inclined. Sirius, however, was still watching Minerva with a small frown on his gaunt face.

"May I help you Black?" she asked waspishly. It did not have the desired effect, which was to say that Sirius didn't stammer an apology and pretend he hadn't been staring at her. Rather, he tilted his head and stared harder.

"Remus, does she look different to you?" he asked his friend.

Remus looked surprised, but scrutinised Minerva anyway. A small frown also appeared on his face. "She does. It's almost like… No. Couldn't be." he said. "She'd never do anything to get that look about her."

"Almost like what?" Minerva demanded. Neither man answered, they just went on watching her.

"Should we check if it's really her?" Sirius asked.

"Well it would have to be for her to get in, wouldn't it?"

"True, but what's she doing outside Hogwarts?"

"_That_ is none of your concern, Black." Minerva snarled, getting more and more annoyed by the second.

Ignoring her completely, Sirius got to his feet and sauntered over to her, pulling out his wand casually as he did so. He once again pointed it at her throat and requested, nay; _demanded_ that she prove her identity. Meanwhile, Remus was stood by the empty fireplace with his wand out and watching the interaction alertly.

Minerva stared back at Sirius, agog. "I beg your pardon?" she managed to choke out.

"I told you to prove who you are." he repeated more firmly. "If you're really McGonagall it shouldn't be that hard."

She just continued to stare at both him and Remus, both of whom were now pointing their wands at her for no good reason that she could see. Save the fact that she looked, quote, 'different'. A stunned laugh actually bubbled out of her at their impudence.

Sirius pressed his wand more firmly against her throat in response. "You know Moony, I don't think it's her." he said gravely. "Maybe we should-"

BANG!

A noise like cannon fire sounded in the living room, accompanied by bright purple light and two startled yells. Before anyone realised what was happening, Minerva had both men dangling from the chandelier in the middle of the room and cocooned in tight silver ropes from the neck down. Or should that be from the neck up, given their unfortunate position?

"Were you two labouring under some delusion that I _wouldn't_ hurt you?" she asked them with and expression of bewilderment. "Was that what it was? Or were you just feeling suicidal?"

Sirius was swinging like a pendulum, but far be it for him to let that stop him. "It's definitely her Remus. Wouldn't you say?"

"Almost certainly." Remus agreed, eyeing the chandelier fixing as it groaned ominously.

Minerva sipped her lemonade leisurely and took a seat where Sirius had been sitting. She examined the chess game laid out before her. "Black, you really are atrocious at this game." she said darkly. "You. Sir Knight." Sirius's only remaining knight stood to attention. "Move over there." she said, indicating a square by Remus's bishop. The Knight hurried to do as informed, clearly thrilled to have a player who knew what they were doing for once.

The chandelier fixing groaned once again, and Minerva undid the ropes. Both men clattered to the floor loudly and lay sprawled before her comically. She smirked down at them.

"Thanks." Sirius said sarcastically.

"Any time." Minerva responded.

Remus scrambled feet and moved quickly over to the chess board, scowling at Minerva's move. Sirius, however, merely collapsed elegantly onto the couch. And on top of Minerva's coat but he didn't seem to notice that small fact until he was already on it.

"So, any reason you're here other than checking in?" Remus asked, prodding a pawn to it's doom to compensate for Minerva's move.

"Nothing in particular." Minerva admitted, eyeing Sirius as he began digging her coat out from under him. "I was in the area and thought I might as well. I was going to share one of my student's theory on Animagi with Sirius as well, but I'm not sure I will."

Sirius put on an expression of mock hurt as he finally extracted the, now distinctly rumpled, coat. "It pains me to hear you say such things Professor. I would almost certainly have profound insight into the problem, after all." he said as he slung her coat over the back of the couch. As he did so, her receipt from Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes fluttered out. Regrettably, of all the traits Black had lost in Azkaban, his lightning reflexes didn't appear to be one of them. His hand darted out and caught it. Minerva cringed inwardly.

Just shove it back into the coat, just shove it back into the coat, just shove it back into the coat… she prayed silently. No such luck though.

He smoothed it out and scanned the paper. The first time, he did so casually. As if it were merely a habit for him to read everything he came across. The second time he read over it, it was with an expression of confusion. This was quickly replaced with surprise, before an expression of incredulous delight took up residence. Minerva turned back to the chess game and pretended she hadn't noticed anything, praying that Sirius would ignore it.

"I don't believe it!" he whooped. "I don't, bloody, believe it!"

Nope. He wasn't ignoring it. The git. She'd never liked him anyway, Minerva thought huffily.

Remus looked between the wincing face of Minerva to his friend's undisguised gaiety with a look of puzzlement. "What is it?" he asked.

Sirius was barking with laughter. Minerva glared at him. "I don't see what's so amusing." she stated in an austere tone.

"You don't? Here. We'll see if Remus does." he said, handing the receipt over to Remus. Minerva folded her arms petulantly .

It took the two of them five whole minutes to shut up. They were droning on about irony, and how she had just completely destroyed everything they thought they knew about their time at Hogwarts. Then Remus remembered some theory of James Potter's that Minerva was really responsible for all those anonymous pranks that occasionally happened to the four of them and that they attributed to Peeves or Snape.

Minerva had refused to dignify the suggestion with a response (mainly because it was true) and this had led to another round of childish twittering from the pair of them. She only managed make them quieten down by getting to her feet and announcing that they were both absolutely right, that such behaviour was unbefitting a Professor, and that she would therefore refrain from slipping Snape the edible Dark Marks.

Upon hearing this, both had immediately settled down and Sirius had smoothed out the receipt, folded it up and placed it gently into the coat pocket from whence it came. Both then attempted to look as innocent as possible, as if nothing had happened.

Minerva made a 'tsk' noise. "You know, I really do hope you can't have puppies." she muttered, shifting one of the chess pieces. "Checkmate."

She turned back to the couch, where Sirius's eyebrows had apparently disappeared into his hairline. "Did you just say _puppies_?" he asked.

**8:45 PM  
****-Hogsmeade-**

Minerva appeared as close as she possibly could to the castle, not particularly wanting to take a long hike back in her cat form given the dreary weather. She was, however, pleasantly surprised to note that the rain was easing off slightly. Very slightly. Almost imperceptibly. But still.

It had taken nearly fifteen minutes to explain the various aspects of her Hufflepuff class's theories to Sirius. Rather than taunt her mercilessly, as she'd expected him to do, he had instead taken it very seriously and considered it logically. Sirius Black and logical thought had never really gone together in Minerva's experience and so she had naturally stayed to watch it unfold.

Then, of course, Sirius had realised that in order to determine whether such a thing was possible, an Animagus would have to copulate with an animal. This had led to a very bizarre conversation, wherein Sirius and Minerva had agreed that the very thought was repulsive and consequently had to try and explain the animal state Remus. Remus, until then, had assumed that Animagi transformation was akin to werewolf transformation, only more controlled. It soon emerged that this was not the case. It was about that time Minerva had been forced to leave, lest she spend the rest of the night there discussing the Philosophical and Psychological ramifications of animal transformation.

It was times like this she realised that her life was very different to other people's lives.

She sighed and moved towards a tree on her left with thick foliage. About a mile up ahead she could see the lights of the castle. They were blurred in the downpour, but still unmistakeable. She glanced down the hill behind her towards Hogsmeade, and saw that both the Three Broomsticks and the Hog's Head were lit up like Christmas trees. Weather like this was always good for business, with people stopping in for a drink just to escape the cold rain. Had she not known that doing so would probably land her a cell in Azkaban if Delores Umbridge had anything to do with it, Minerva would have certainly gone for a Butter Beer herself. But no. She couldn't leave any witnesses in Hogsmeade.

Tom at the Leaky Cauldron didn't count as a witness since he was too used to people dropping in who technically shouldn't be there to think anything of it. Besides, it would be bad for his business if people knew he was suddenly reporting suspicious activities to the Ministry. Fred and George Weasley would have sooner eaten out their own kidneys than help Delores Umbridge, she knew. Emmeline most certainly wouldn't be doing anything to harm her, Minerva knew. And so, basically, she had left no witnesses. Or close enough.

She knew as well that Aberforth wouldn't tell anyone he'd spotted her, had she stopped in past the Hog's Head. What was less certain was the inclinations of his clientele, and so Minerva dared not risk it. Nor did she dare risk being spotted entering Hogwarts in the very same attire which she had left in, as that twerp Proudfoot would almost certainly twist the facts until he had been viciously shoved off a cliff by a figure dressed all in black.

Minerva sighed.

She almost wished that war would hurry up and break out officially. Lord knew it was easier to deal with than all this rubbish.

Shrugging out of her lovely warm coat, Minerva checked her pockets to ensure she had nothing incriminating on her person. Indeed, by the time she was finished rifling through the aforementioned pockets, the only items she actually had left on her person were her wand, her clothes and a couple of rings. She folded up her coat and spirited it away into a nook in the tree beneath which she was sheltered. A quick charm ensured that no unsavoury creatures or substances would be touching it in her absence, and a quick glare around ensured that no one had seen her smuggle it. She could fetch the thing later.

Knowing she would need more space to transform than that tiny alcove would allow her, Minerva stepped out from under the thick foliage and into the heavy downpour. She gasped as the water hit her, and within less than a second she was soaked to the skin. She shuddered with distaste and glared up at the castle, venomously.

"I really hate Delores Umbridge." she muttered vehemently.

Melting seamlessly into her feline form, she began scampering up to the castle, completely unaware of the twinkling blue eyes in the forest, that watched her go with amusement.

**9:00 PM  
****-The Front Lawns-**

Getting out of Hogwarts unnoticed was pitifully easy. Just ask Harry Potter. Or better yet, ask his father. But Minerva knew that getting into Hogwarts was a different story entirely.

After an unfortunate incident with one of the Winged Boars by the Entrance, however, Dumbledore had made sure that getting in an out of the grounds unnoticed was comparatively easy for Minerva in her cat form. As a result, the biggest concern Minerva really had, as she darted up towards the castle, was that it was absolutely freezing and raining buckets. Neither of which were small matters when you were a cat.

However when she reached the Front Door, another problem took priority. Namely, how in the name of hell was she going to open that gigantic oak door? Particularly when she could distinctly hear Delores on the other side, screeching at someone or other. Had she been in human form she would have sighed. Given her feline inclination at that moment however, the noise came out as more of a hiss. Turning her tail on the door she trotted down the stone steps and looked around a bit.

There was a window open on the third floor which she could probably reach if she set her mind to it, and didn't mind risking a broken bone or two. Regrettably, she was a seventy year old witch and was not about to lower herself to climbing a sodding tree like some sort of demented squirrel. Her fur bristled at the very thought. Alternatively there was a back Entrance on the other side of the castle which was primarily used by Slytherins heading directly towards the Greenhouses from their common room. However it was on the other side of the building and she wasn't about to go all that way unless she had to. Similarly, she wasn't going all the way back to Hogsmeade just to sneak in through a secret passage. She was, however, going to have to get inside soon.

Her fur was getting fluffy, and that was an indignity she simply would not face.

And so she resorted to doing what any cat would have done in her position. She turned back to the front door, unsheathed her claws and began scratching the door while meowing as loudly as possible. The noise of her scraping claws on the highly polished wood was akin to nails on a blackboard. Minerva retained enough of her human tendencies in her cat form to cringe at the sound, but she didn't stop.

Fortunately, the noise from inside ceased, indicating that someone heard her.

"Shacklebolt! Go let that little beast in!" Delores screeched, before turning her attentions back to whomever she'd been yelling at before. Minerva pricked her ears just in time to hear the sentence, "How could you let her get away? You idiot! She could be talking to Albus Dumbledore right now!"

Minerva paused for a moment, overcome with delight and mirth. Not only was Proudfoot was getting an earful on her account, but Delores was actually foolish enough to believe that Minerva knew where Dumbledore was. It was quite flattering. Then again, she had it on good authority that Delores thought Harry Potter knew where Dumbledore was, so perhaps that said more about Delores's idiocy than it did Delores's view of Minerva. Either way it cheered her up.

She resumed meowing as any regular cat would have under the circumstances, until the front door was creaked open. The towering figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt looked down at her, a wicked grin on his handsome features. "Well where have you been sneaking off to, _Kitty_?" he asked affectionately, putting just enough emphasis on the word 'Kitty' to make it obvious that he knew who she was.

Minerva purred imploringly at him, but he simply stared back with a questioning expression.

"Shacklebolt! What's taking so long?" Dawlish called.

_Yeah_, Minerva thought in irritation, _what's taking so long? Let me in already! I'm freezing my fur off._

"Nothing. This pretty little pussycat just seems a bit uncooperative is all." he commented.

Minerva realised that he had actually been expecting a response to his previous question. She narrowed her eyes dangerously at him. Kingsley raised an eyebrow. She shook her head. And in that simple exchange they clearly communicated that she had not been to see Dumbledore, despite what Delores might be shrieking on the other side of the Entrance Hall.

Satisfied, Kingsley grinned at her and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her inside. "I presume you'll be wanting to stick around for the show?" he asked quietly, indicating where Delores was having her little temper tantrum in the otherwise deserted Entrance Hall.

Minerva purred.

**9:03 PM  
****-Hogwarts Entrance Hall-**

The Front Door closed behind them with an ominous bang as Kingsley carried her over to the group assembled by the marble staircase. Dawlish and Proudfoot were standing side-by-side, and Kingsley comfortably took a position next to them while Delores prowled back and forth in front of them, an ugly look on her face.

Kingsley seemed unaffected and set about drying off Minerva. Auspiciously, he did not do so in an overly affectionate manner, for if he had she would have been forced to scratch him. Minerva disliked being petted in any way that could be described as touchy-feely when she was in her cat form. A quick stroke of scratch behind the ear and she was fine, but anything more than that and she began to feel affronted.

To be fair though, she would have almost certainly let Kingsley away with any cutesy or insulting behaviour he felt like, just because he was responsible for her witnessing such an amusing display as this one. On her left, Dawlish was clearly itching to punch something (he really was a disagreeable little toe-rag) while Proudfoot was obviously having to work very hard at keeping a civil tongue in his head. He was also dripping muck all over the Entrance Hall, but that just added to the effect.

"I'm telling you Umbridge-" he ground out.

"_Professor_ Umbridge." Delores corrected threateningly but the Auror took no notice of her menacing tone.

"Whatever." Proudfoot dismissed. "I went look for her for two hours. She was not in Hogsmeade. In fact I saw no evidence that she'd even left the castle."

"Well she obviously did! You saw her leave!"

Proudfoot, who was completely drenched, glaring like a petulant three-year-old and had an odd twitch occurring in his jaw, took a step towards Professor Umbridge. "Do you know what Professor? Do you know what I would have done had I been in Professor McGonagall's position, knowing that someone was tagging me?"

"What?" Delores demanded.

"I would construct a reason to go out, get followed on purpose, shake off whoever was following me and then double back and have a jolly good laugh to myself." he said darkly, while his robes dripped constantly on the flagstone floor. "I mean think about it Delores, do you really believe that I would be able to follow _Minerva McGonagall_ unless she wanted me to?"

Minerva preened.

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you're talking about." Delores simmered.

Proudfoot laughed a humourless laugh and shook his head. "She's been here for years." he said. "She almost certainly knows this castle a thousand times better than I do."

"I hardly think this is the time for hyperbole-" Delores said resentfully, but Dawlish cut her off.

"He's got a point. McGonagall isn't exactly what you'd call a hopeless witch either, is she? She's an Animagus for pity's sake! And who knows what else after all those years with Dumbledore."

"That's a point!" Proudfoot exclaimed. "They say Dumbledore can become invisible even without an invisibility cloak! He could've easily taught McGonagall at any time!" he stated, as though studying to become invisible at will were akin to making macaroni and cheese, and only took a few moments to get to grips with.

In Kingsley's arms, Minerva was wondering if it was possible to cackle as a cat. It probably wasn't, because if it was she'd be giggling like a loon by that point. Yes, of course, it all made sense now. She and Dumbledore were secretly learning obscure skills every night. Such trivialities as her classes, her marking, her Head of House Duties, her insane desire to eat, sleep and bathe, and her silly little habit of talking to people, well they could all be fit _around_ perfecting her Legilimency skills. Right. Yes. Of course.

Idiots.

"Quite frankly, Professor Umbridge," Kingsley commented. "It seems that you have been sending us on nothing but fools errands since the moment we got here."

Anyone looking at the aristocratic tabby held in Kingsley's arms at that moment would have witnessed the definition of the phrase 'Like the cat that got the cream'. Indeed, Minerva couldn't remember enjoying a spectacle this much since… well, since Colin Creevey had walked out of the Headmistress's office unscathed. But she couldn't act smug then, whereas she could act as smug as she liked as she watched each and every one of the Aurors draw themselves up, ready to leave.

"Professor Umbridge, I think it's safe to say that the search for Minerva McGonagall has been terminated. As has our stay here." Dawlish said, looking a mite riled up in Minerva's estimation.

Delores spluttered a bit. "But… but… You can't! She's out there somewhere! No doubt doing something illegal!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air and waving them around like a cartoon character.

"I think it's infinitely more likely that she is sitting in her room, having a right laugh at all of us." Proudfoot declared, wringing bog water out of his hat in earnest. "And to be honest, I could hardly blame her. A show of utter foolishness on behalf of the Ministry if ever I saw one." he shook his hair in an attempt to remove the excess moisture, only to find a small amount of frogspawn in it. Proudfoot glared at the gelatinous substance as though it had caused him a great personal slight. "Enough is enough." he growled. "We are respected Ministry personal! Aurors! And you have us chasing after- After-!"

"Windmills." Kingsley supplied.

"Exactly!" Proudfoot agreed emphatically. "I mean, really! I've never been so embarrassed in my life as I was interviewing those Professors today. I felt like a child asking a stupid question in class. I half expected Flitwick to threaten to write to my mother and tell her he was very disappointed in me." he muttered. "Well that's it. I'm done. I'm leaving."

And with those words, Proudfoot headed for the door.

"You take one step outside that door Mister Proudfoot and I'll see that you never work again!" Delores called after him.

Everyone there froze.

It wasn't very often that Minerva felt intimidated by Aurors, but once in a great long while she was reminded that each and every qualified Auror out there was not only well-versed in innumerable curses, but also well-practised in most of them. As Proudfoot turned back to face Delores, she found herself keenly aware of that face. Kingsley, too, was drawing himself up in anger.

Minerva began scrabbling to get away; she didn't especially want to be in the line of fire when Kingsley Shacklebolt got annoyed. Even less so when she was completely helpless and unable to use her wand. Kingsley seemed perfectly calm, however. He gently set Minerva down, and turned to face Delores.

"What did you say to me?" Proudfoot asked quietly.

Minerva darted over to the entrance to the dungeons, and settled herself in for a good show. She glanced behind her and distinctly saw Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot watching the affair unfold with looks of glee upon their faces.

"Quick, get closer." Susan whispered. "I want to see the old hag's face when they knock her down a few pegs." The reputation of Hufflepuff House being nicer than the other houses was, in Minerva's opinion, crumbling. And quickly.

Kingsley had pulled out his wand. Minerva was gratified to see Delores eyeing it warily, but she knew Kingsley wouldn't throw out a curse unless he felt he had to. Which was an unfortunate fact Minerva had more or less resigned herself to. Nonetheless, he drew himself up to his full height and glowered fiercely down at Umbridge, his powerful stature immediately apparent. Delores sort of paled in comparison. Even Proudfoot and Dawlish were taking a backseat, clearly realising that their participation was no-longer necessary.

"Ms Umbridge." he said in a deep, resonating voice that practically dared Delores to correct him in regards to her proper title. She didn't. He continued. "I acknowledge that you are powerful locally. Why, I would even go so far as to say that your official power in this building is almost absolute. I accept that." he took another step towards her. "But you paid a price for that power. You surrendered any jurisdiction you once held at the Ministry when you took this job, and as such I would urge you not to behave as though nothing has changed."

"Well I-" Delores started. Kingsley did not stop speaking.

"Additionally, it is my solemn duty to inform you that have never, _never_, had the power to dismiss me or my colleagues. Do you understand that?" He asked in that deliberate and thunderous voice of his. Delores nodded shakily in response.

"Good. Now I took time off an important case to come here today, as did my colleagues. We are all working on very high-profile cases. I assume the fact that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban is not lost on you? What about the recapture of Sirius Black?" Delores didn't respond. "Well I'm sorry to tell you Ms Umbridge that both of those cases take priority over chasing after whatever phantoms you have created."

Delores was trembling slightly. Minerva was purring. Kingsley straightened and headed for the door. "I am going to return to the Ministry now, Ms Umbridge. I suggest you keep a closer watch on your employees and students from now on. Because from this point onwards, the Aurors office certainly won't be doing it for you. Good Evening."

And with that declaration, Kingsley Shacklebolt strode out of the Entrance Hall; a smug Proudfoot and Dawlish in his wake. Had Minerva been a biped at the time, she almost certainly would have given him a standing ovation.

Delores gaped after them. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she puffed herself up and tottered up the Marble Staircase on unsteady legs, muttering all the while. Minerva made out a few sentences about "Not needing those arrogant twits anyway" and being "perfectly capable of finding McGonagall".

Behind her, Minerva heard Susan and Hannah dissolve into a fit of giggles. "Oh, oh that was priceless!" Susan wheezed. "Oh I have to tell Auntie Amelia about this. She never liked the old toad."

Minerva took no notice of them, nor they of her. She got to her feet, stuck her tail straight up in the air and strutted down into the depths of the dungeons with an air of satisfaction. And why shouldn't she be satisfied, Minerva asked herself. She'd had both dinner and a show. Anyone would have enjoyed it.

**9:12 PM  
****-Dungeon Passageway-**

Feeling quite gloriously smug, Minerva trotted down to Snape's office with a spring in her step. Since Kingsley had dried her she didn't need to concern herself about turning up in Snape's office looking like she'd just taken a dip in the lake. Additionally, she could tell Snape all about the little episode she'd just witnessed in the Entrance Hall, thereby giving him something to smirk about and giving her someone to smirk with. Even if it was Snape.

Her thoughts of savouring Delores's humiliation quickly dissipated, however, as she approached his office door and heard the distinct sound of scolding drifting out. Transforming into her human form again (lest she get caught and have to explain herself), Minerva perked up her ears and attempted to listen in.

She was not doing so out of curiosity, though she didn't deny being a little curious as to who Snape could possibly be reprimanding at that time of night. Rather, she was listening in to determine whether her assistance would be needed in disciplining the offender, or whether the victim of his castigation would be in need of psychological or emotional counselling after the incident. Severus did have a tendency to cause rather powerful reactions in students, and even more powerful reactions in students he was chastising. And by powerful reactions she did mean nervous breakdowns.

Well alright, there had only been the one nervous breakdown from that Ravenclaw first year a few years back. And Minerva had it on good authority that she had almost completely recovered. But still, Snape could hardly be described as cuddly.

The door was slightly open, which explained why she could hear voices from inside. Severus did tend to soundproof his doors after all. But if he were having a tempestuous tête-à-tête with a student he would have almost certainly ensured the door was closed. And if he was having a tempestuous _anything_ with Sinistra he would have definitely closed the door. So Minerva really had to wonder what was going on. Her curiosity was hardly lessened when the conversation seemed to change from Snape scolding the student (whoever it was) to two different voices quarrelling. It was quite thoroughly piqued when Severus was heard to bellow "Sit down and shut up, BOTH OF YOU!"

Minerva couldn't help herself; she didn't care if she offended Snape. She walked briskly up to the door and knocked on it loudly. Snape audibly told whoever it was to wait a moment and walked over to the door. He appeared behind it a moment later with a dark glower on his face that would have made the above mentioned Ravenclaw girl burst into tears. He also seemed to have an eye twitch.

"Professor McGonagall." he growled quietly. "If you are here to confirm your alibi, consider it done. Now if you'll excuse me-"

"Actually Severus." she interrupted in the same undertone. "I was merely going to inform you that I could hear the commotion emanating from your office in the Entrance Hall." she lied. It wasn't a huge stretch of the facts, after all. "Might I inquire as to what's going on?"

Snape's eye was off again. "So far as I can tell, Miss Greengrass and Mister Malfoy had some sort of altercation." he said in a voice that was apparently loud enough to be heard inside the room.

"Yeah, and it was _her_ fault."

"It was not!"

"It bloody well was!"

"Just because you're a complete coward who can't take half the stuff you throw out there-"

"Listen you rabid little shrew-"

"_Silence_!" Snape snarled. Both occupants of the room instantly shut up. Severus raised his eyes skyward, apparently searching for divine strength to pull him through. "As you can see, my hands are quite full." he continued, more quietly than before. "So if you'll pardon me-"

He went to close the door but Minerva stopped him. He glared at her, she smiled sweetly. "I'd just listen at the door anyway." she told him.

Severus hissed out a low breath, appearing as though he dearly wished to kill something. "Fine." he muttered at last, stepping back to let Minerva in. "But stay quiet."

"Of course. Hello Daphne."

"Hi Professor."

Snape growled.

**9:14 PM  
****-Snape's Office-**

Minerva had never liked Snape's office. It was dark, it was cold, it was populated by dead things pickled in jars; in short, it was not somewhere she felt comfortable. He also tended to have a distinct lack of chairs. Since this was once again the case, she moved straight behind his desk and leant on the sideboard that was behind it. Severus himself closed the door with a loud bang, before taking up position behind the desk also, albeit in a more forward position to Minerva.

Most students would have been trembling by that point. Snape and McGonagall looming over them sort of tended to elicit fear and impulse control issues, along with the occasional nervous twitch. Greengrass and Malfoy, however, were both sitting scowling and refusing to look at each other. They seemed immeasurably more concerned with each other than they did with the two Professors in front of them. Well that was a first.

Minerva glanced over at Severus, who seemed to be trying to calm himself down before trusting himself to speak again. She took the opportunity to study the pupils in front of her.

Both were out of their requisite school uniforms. In Draco's case this meant that his over-robes and tie were missing, leaving only his white shirt which was loose at the collar. It was the closest Minerva had ever seen him to 'out of uniform'. Even at the Yule Ball the previous year, Minerva had seen no discernible difference between his dress robes and his normal clothing, save the fabric. Unusually for him, he had a bright purple jawbone from where he had obviously been punched. His hair was also quite ruffled, having obvious run his hands through it several times. All these points, combined with the fact that he was scowling instead of sneering left Minerva finding him ever-so-slightly less repulsive than usual. In Daphne's case, however, nothing she wore even resembled the school uniform. She was clearly one of those witches who preferred muggle clothing. She wore black jeans, black boots, and a dark green jumper with a small silver S on it, and the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was flowing free, and she looked distinctly as though she'd been planning to sit and read a book all night.

While Malfoy slouched low down in his chair, with his arms folded across his chest; Daphne sat bolt upright, perched on the edge of her chair with her legs crossed, her hands clasped around them. They were looking in opposite directions, and Minerva was pleased to note that a nerve in Malfoy's swollen jaw seemed to be twitching with indignation.

Snape had also removed both their wands, apparently, as Minerva could see them sitting on the desk. He apparently didn't want them having access to them.

All of these facts served to tell Minerva one thing: This was going to be good.

"Well." Snape drawled at last. "This is quite the surprise. You've both remained silent for a whole minute. Had I known that all it would take to bring about a little calm was another witness to your idiocy, I would have permitted this discussion to take place in the Common Room." Two pairs of eyes glared at him for an instant before each returned to looking resolutely in the opposite direction.

Snape looked between the two of them, evaluating carefully before he spoke.

"Draco. Why don't you give us your version of events." he requested coolly.

Draco nodded. "Fine. We, that is to say, myself, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Millicent and Blaise, were having a discussion about our plans for the summer in the common room. Millie called over to where Greengrass was reading a book by the fireplace and asked her what she was doing over the holidays." Daphne scoffed loudly at this juncture, but Draco pretended not to hear it. "Greengrass responded crudely, and Millie was understandably upset. Pansy, not wanting to see her best friend in such a state, retaliated and asked Greengrass to apologise."

Minerva couldn't really tell if Snape was believing this tripe, but she could say with little doubt that Daphne's jaw was going to dislocate itself shortly if it dropped any lower.

"Greengrass refused and so Pansy took out her wand." Draco continued. "Since, despite the best of intentions, Pansy is hardly skilled at duelling, she was disarmed by Greengrass within seconds. At which point I stepped in. It was during our… _conflict_, that you walked in Professor." he concluded with a swift glare at Daphne, before he once again settled into his chair.

Daphne was staring at him, agape. She looked somewhat appalled.

Severus nodded curtly and turned to Daphne. "Miss Greengrass, do you agree with Mister Malfoy's retelling of the events?" he asked, rather pointlessly.

Daphne turned to face her Head of House, her hands now gripping the arms of her chair. She nodded. "With the basics of it Professor, yes. In the sense that it did take place in the common room, that I was reading a book before hand, and that it was five against one." she said. "Aside from that, it's the biggest load crap I've ever heard in my life."

"Miss Greengrass, watch your tongue." Snape informed her. Daphne looked apologetic. Severus continued. "Now since you weren't sitting with them, I'll assume that Mister Malfoy and his friend's topic of discussion was unknown to you. Aside from that, could you retell the incident please?"

Daphne shrugged. "I was sitting reading by the fireplace, when Millicent Bulstrode called over and asked me if I'd be _spending my summer with the Usual Muggle Slime, or if I'd spend my time shagging Harry Potter instead_." she said in disgust. "I…er… responded," she said evasively.

She shouldn't have bothered since Severus caught it immediately. "Responded how?"

Daphne dithered a moment and Draco's eyes glittered maliciously.

"Miss Greengrass I can fetch some Truth Serum if you wish." Severus told her in all seriousness.

Daphne cringed. "I believe my exact words were: No I'll be offering sexual favours to the Weasley Twins as a Thank You for all the trouble they've caused you useless scumbags and the rest of Umbridge's Winged Monkeys." she said, chagrined.

Minerva bit back a laugh. Even Severus's impassive face appeared momentarily spasmodic as he repressed a smile. "And then?" he asked.

Daphne cringed once again and fixed her gaze on Snape's desk rather than look at anyone, as even Malfoy looked vaguely amused. "And then," she continued with great effort. "Then Parkinson got up, really angrily, and asked what I'd just called her." Daphne coughed slightly. "Naturally I assumed there was something wrong with her hearing and… um… repeated myself. At that point, Bulstrode, Parkinson, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle all got up and pulled out their wands."

"What about Zabini?" Severus interrupted. "I believe Mister Malfoy mentioned his presence earlier."

Daphne nodded. "Yeah, he was there. But he didn't do anything. He just kind of slinked off to the side. Blaise doesn't like getting involved in stuff like that."

The nerve in Malfoy's jaw seemed to redouble it's efforts as he heard Blaise Zabini referred to by his first name, while he himself was on a surname basis with Daphne. Minerva was willing to bet that Blaise Zabini would be involved in a conflict of his own by the end of the week.

"Anyway," Daphne continued. "They all got up, so I went for my wand. Parkinson cast some pathetic little jinx, God knows what, at me. I raised a Shield Charm, the jinx hit her in the face and she got a lot of boils in the face." Daphne allowed herself a smirk. "She dropped her wand immediately and started crying for Malfoy to run and help her. It was pathetic, really."

"Miss Greengrass." Severus warned.

"Er, sorry Professor." she said, wiping the smile off her face. "What I meant to say was that Park- uh- Pansy was out of commission pretty quick. So then Bulstrode threw a Body Bind at me, but since I still had the Shield charm up, that didn't go brilliantly for her. Then Malfoy threw something at me-"

"I did not 'throw something at you'." Draco said scathingly. "I tried to disarm you, to stop you cursing half the bloody common room."

Daphne scoffed. "You mean to stop me before I cursed _you_."

"Like you could." Draco said disbelievingly.

"Oh please! I've beaten you in every Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson we've ever had." Daphne exclaimed.

"Right, because that's such a great indicator." Draco snapped. "A nut-job, a werewolf, a fraud and an idiot who was scared of his own reflection thought that you were better at fending off vampires than I was…" He mocked realisation. "Oh. Wait. You've never faced a vampire." he said. "Never mind, though. Because if we ever come across some _Cornish Pixies_ then you certainly proved yourself more capable of running away from them than me."

"That was three years ago!" Daphne cried. "Besides, I didn't like them." she bristled. "They were all… fluttery."

Draco snorted. "That's wonderful." he said. "That's just great. You expect me to believe that you'd be able to beat me in a duel, but a butterfly would send you running." he commented sarcastically.

"Oh right, because it's not like you have an unexplained phobia or two." Daphne said disbelievingly.

Their postures had changed quite significantly, from not even looking at each other to leaning together and glaring. It was quite entertaining really. Severus must have thought so too, as he wasn't interrupting them. Then again, perhaps he had just given up hope completely and was now planning his suicide.

"Look, I really don't see the point in this Professor." Draco snapped, facing Snape. "I've got a couple of dozen witnesses who'll corroborate my story, and all Greengrass has got is some rubbish about Millicent Bulstrode provoking her."

"_Of course_ he's got a couple of dozen witnesses!" Daphne shrieked. "They're all afraid of him!"

"Pansy certainly isn't afraid of me, and she'd confirm everything I've said." Draco responded.

"Oh. Of course she would. Pansy doesn't want to step out of line." Daphne remarked bitterly, rolling her eyes as she did so. "Don't know why that little idiot even bothers pretending to care about school anymore. She should just go home and knit until she finds someone who's arm she can hang on forever." she muttered.

Draco got to his feet in outrage, but Minerva clearly saw amusement in his eyes, indicating that he agreed on some level. "You're out of order." he said, without conviction.

Daphne got instantly to her feet and looked Draco straight in the eye. Which was actually fairly impressive considering she was a head shorter than he was. "And what exactly are you going to do about it Malfoy? Glare pointedly? God knows the only reason you managed to land any curses at all back in the Common Room was because you had Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber hold me down."

"If you're referring to Crabbe and Goyle-"

"Yes, those were the glorified rocks to whom I was referring."

"Listen you self-righteous little hag, I…"

"What did you call me, you Nazi piece of-"

"Rabid hellcat!"

"Stuck up, son of a-"

"Brainless battle-axe-"

"Death Eater wannabe-"

"WENCH!"

"INBRED!"

"SILENCE!"

Both Slytherins froze like Deer in the Headlights, apparently having forgotten that they had an audience. An audience of teachers no less. Severus was fuming about this fact, while Minerva had been rather enjoying herself. "_Sit_." Severus ordered.

Both did so instantly, eyes wide, looking pale.

Severus took a deep breath and composed himself. "Mister Malfoy, since we now have a slightly more accurate version of events, I trust you to complete the explanation honestly." Given his tone, Snape really didn't have to add the unspoken 'or else'. "When I entered the common room, the pair of you had not only caused quite a bit of property damage, but you, Mister Malfoy, had Miss Greengrass pinned to a table as she swore vehemently at you if I recall correctly. Now, please explain to me how this came to pass."

Upon hearing Snape's comment, Minerva was looking at Malfoy's bruised jaw in a whole new light.

Draco, for his part, cleared his throat nervously and started talking in a voice quite unlike his normal drawl. "Well… uh… Crabbe and Goyle had pinned Greengrass and tried to disarm her. It didn't really work. She set them on fire. That's how the wall hangings went up."

"So I surmised." Severus said coldly.

"Right. Course you did. Well, see, Greengrass and I then start throwing spells at each other. Then she insulted me so we, uh, started throwing them too. Insulting each other, I mean. Next thing I know, our friend the pugilist here, forgets her wand completely and just slams her fist into my face." he said, sounding a little irritated with the fact. "That's when my wand went flying."

The entire room looked to Daphne for an explanation. She shook her hair snootily. "He insulted my Aunt Antigone. He deserved it."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Your Aunt Antigone being a squib, correct? And she's married to a muggle?"

"Yes. I live with her." Daphne confirmed.

"And so in an effort to restrain her you pinned her to the desk, correct?" Severus asked, now looking at Malfoy.

Draco nodded. "Er… in a roundabout sort of way, yes." he agreed.

"Right." Severus sighed heavily. "Property damage, duelling in the common room, inadvertent cursing of innocent bystanders, unwarranted provocation… A week's worth of detention for both of you. And as much as it pains me, five points from Slytherin for each participant in this little incident."

Both students gaped at him. Severus glared back at them, as though daring them to complain. When neither did, he indicated the door. "Now return to your common room. Both of you." he told them.

Both students got morosely to their feet and disappeared out the door, their shoulders slumped and an air of depression hanging around them. As the door swung shut behind them, Minerva emerged from the shadows. "You realise, of course, that there is no way anything productive will occur while those two are in the same room. Right?" she commented quietly to Severus, who continued to glare after the pair of them despite the fact that they were no longer there.

"Of course I do." he sighed "But I had to punish them somehow and I wanted rid of them before my head exploded." he added, finally taking a seat in the chair behind his desk. "I've had a long day."

"Haven't we all?" Minerva said. "Oh, did you see that new Educational Decree?" she asked him.

"No Hogwarts staff save the Headmistress herself may enchant, bewitch or otherwise modify any aspect or feature of the school." Severus chorused mockingly. "Idiot woman."

"Quite." Minerva agreed. Silence descended on the room as both occupants tried to remember what in God's name they were doing in a room together.

Severus was the first to recall. "Your alibi has already been confirmed, Professor McGonagall." he told her. "Even Malfoy can attest to seeing you here."

"So he can." she acknowledged with a small smile. How convenient." Another quiescence occurred, though this time Minerva spent it watching her colleague.

The past year had been stressful on him, there was no doubt. Shadows under his eyes had slowly been transforming themselves into eight piece luggage sets, without his say so. At work he had Umbridge to put up with, and outside of work he had Voldemort to deal with. Safe to say that neither pertained to calm and tranquillity. The stress was most apparent during quiet moments like that. His hands, normally steady as a rock, shook slightly, while his normally sharp, observant eyes adopted a permanently faraway, preoccupied expression. Of all of them, Severus undeniably had the most difficult job. Minerva wondered why she was so surprised that it had started to show.

"Are you all right?" she asked him quietly.

He didn't answer honestly. She knew he wouldn't. He just dragged a hand across his face and shuddered melodramatically. "I'll live." he stated. (We hope, Minerva added.) "After that incident with Trelawney, I should have known today was just going to get steadily worse." Severus continued, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Really, I don't know why I'm surprised."

Minerva frowned as something nagged at her. "Trelawney…" she whispered to herself. "Trelawney, Trelawney…" she suddenly remembered. "OH! I forgot!"

Severus looked at her. "Forgot what?"

"Forgot Sybill."

"Wish I could." Severus muttered.

"No! You don't understand, I was supposed to organise something for Lavender Brown because… oh forget it. I have to go." she told him, rushing for the door without a backwards glance, and leaving behind a mildly nonplussed Snape.

**9:48 PM  
****-The Hospital Wing-**

Minerva usually felt that she had a great deal more to do than other members of staff, with the small exception of Snape. Even then, Snape only prevailed because he was occasionally tortured by Lord Voldemort and things. If it weren't for that small fact, she would have trumped Snape too.

However there was hardly a day that went by when she didn't thank her lucky stars she was not the Hogwarts School Nurse. It wasn't so much the work load as the work itself that would irritate her. For example after the third victim of the dreaded East Hallway Incident earlier in the day, Minerva felt fairly certain she would have snapped and told each and every student that they were on their own until such times as someone was intelligent enough to put up a warning sign for other students.

She was also absolutely certain that Cormac McLaggen would have been turned away years ago, just for sheer stupidity had Minerva been left in charge of the Hospital Wing.

Additionally, the idea of sleeping next door to her office was horrifying to Minerva. She rather liked the daily commute, as it were, to her office and classroom. The trip allowed her to transform herself from Minerva to Professor McGonagall and back. Granted, on days like this where both Minerva and Professor McGonagall were needed at a moments notice, it didn't really matter where she worked or where she slept: She was going to be all over the place anyway. But on a normal day (meaning one where Dumbledore was in charge) she enjoyed the shift.

Minerva's attitude towards Poppy Pomfrey was therefore akin to reverence on the average day. On a day like that, however, Minerva was about three "self-inflicted curses" away from getting down on her knees and worshipping the woman for her patience.

"Right then, Miss Parkinson." Poppy said in an even voice as Minerva entered the room. "That's you done for now. Hold that against your face for another twenty minutes and then come back over here. And might I recommend using make-up from now on, like the rest of the world."

A meek looking Pansy Parkinson nodded, and headed for a bed on the far-side of the room. She was holding a thick blue towel to her face and was reeking of what smelled like cloves. Minerva supposed this was the reason why Pansy had not rushed in to defend Draco in Snape's office: she was too busy being fixed up. And the reason Poppy had yet to notice her was that she was cleaning up the assorted paraphernalia she had been using to treat Miss Parkinson. Minerva wondered vaguely what was wrong with the girl, but swiftly realised that she didn't care. She just sort of hoped it was painful.

"Excuse me, Poppy?" Minerva called out as unobtrusively as possible.

The nurse looked up. "Oh. Minerva, hello. Mister McLaggen is quite thoroughly unconscious, if you were looking for him. I doubt you'd be able to get him to so much as snore at this point, he's so far under." Poppy told her as she sent her Mortar and Pestle over to the sink in the corner.

Minerva had actually forgotten about McLaggen. She made a mental note to write that letter to his parents. Tomorrow.

"No, actually. I wanted to talk to you about something a bit delicate…" Minerva glanced over to where Parkinson was obviously listening in. Recalling a handy little spell Severus had taught her once, Minerva muttered "Muffliato." An alarmed looking Parkinson was immediately more concerned with the unidentifiable buzzing in her ear.

Poppy frowned at her. "What did you do?"

"Nothing much. I'll undo it before I leave." Minerva assured her.

The nurse nodded. "Fair enough. Just so long as it doesn't cause lasting damage. I'm having enough trouble with her today as it is. This morning it was the face thing, then her arm was broken in two places and now with the boils…" Poppy shook her head sighing.

"Forgive me, but: Face thing?" Minerva asked curiously. "What face thing?"

Poppy groaned. "Oh she came in this morning before classes, crying her eyes out because a transfiguration spell had gone wrong. I asked her exactly what happened, and do you know what she'd done? She'd gone and tried to transfigure herself cheekbones."

Minerva stared at her blankly for a moment. "I beg your pardon?" she asked after a moment of silence, where in she found herself quite unable to process the sentence.

Poppy scoffed. "I know. She said she's always been insecure about her bone structure. So she tried to alter it. Idiot girl."

It took a few moments of silent reflection on Minerva's part to truly appreciate the idiocy of such an undertaking. Still, at least she hadn't tried to turn herself into a snake to support Malfoy or something. Hollow bones, they could deal with. But even Poppy and Minerva were quite unable to reverse the side-effects of cold-bloodedness in humans. Particularly when the main side-effect tended to be death.

"Er… Moving swiftly on." Minerva continued with a quick shake of her head. "I wished to discuss Sybill with you."

"Oh do you have to?" Poppy whined, seemingly regressing to the age of seven.

Minerva nodded understandingly. "Unfortunately? Yes. You see it turns out Miss Patil and Miss Brown have been keeping an eye on her these past few months."

Poppy groaned. "That's how she's stayed out of trouble?"

"Apparently." Minerva confirmed, taking a seat at the bottom of one of the many beds and picking carelessly at the white cotton sheet that adorned it. "But now it's interfering with their schoolwork, and so I can't let it continue."

"No. No I don't suppose you can." Poppy concurred, taking a seat at the nurses station.

They sat in silence for a few moments, contemplating just how they could help Sybill become useful again. Or as useful as she'd ever been. It was hard though; and not just because they wanted help Sybill while not actually being forced to talk to her. But also because neither woman was especially clear on how to help someone like Sybill regain their… er… livelihood, as it were. What could they really suggest, anyway? Setting up a tent by a circus and offering readings for five quid a pop? Writing a book on predicting Harry Potter's many and varied deaths? Taking up knitting? None of the suggestions really fit.

When other people's lives went down the toilet, Minerva usually had something to say. She had some way to contribute. But with Sybill Trelawney… well, things were rather different. Among other things, Sybill was distinctly more fragile than most people and tended to dissolve into tears whenever someone mentioned the fact that she was no-longer employed.

With a sigh, Minerva turned her attentions to something else. Solutions to tricky problems often floated into her head when she wasn't thinking about them. In fact, they did so more often when she was thinking about things that were completely unrelated than they did when she was concentrating on them. And so, for reasons unknown to her, Minerva decided to focus on the crisp white sheet beneath her fingers. It smelt like lavender and was stretched so tightly across the bed that Minerva could've bounced a knut off it. Or at least it had been before she started fiddling with it…

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Poppy asked her suddenly.

Minerva glanced up. "That domestic spells really aren't my forte?" she responded in all seriousness.

"No." the eternally patient nurse said. "I was thinking that we could assign her a House Elf."

Minerva stared blankly.

Poppy got up and began wringing her hands as she worked out the details. "Yes it's perfect. We could even assign two of them. They could work in shifts. They could watch over her all day, and if she did anything dangerous they could come and get one of us. I would, of course, increase the number of anti-alcohol potions I stock and the number of sleeping draughts. Yes. Yes! It's perfect!" she announced, finally coming to a stop directly in front of Minerva.

She honestly looked as though she'd just figured out the counter-curse for Avada Kedavra, she seemed to pleased. Minerva hesitated to point out the obvious flaws in this plan, just because of how thrilled Poppy appeared to be. But if there was one thing Minerva knew, it was that denial did nothing for anyone in the long run. And so it was better to be upfront.

"Three problems, Poppy." She raised her hand and began counting them off on her long fingers. "One; if Delores found out that we were using Hogwarts resources to keep Sybill out of trouble, she would not only sack us but she would also evict Sybill as soon as look at her." Poppy looked crestfallen as Minerva raised another finger. "Two; even if Delores didn't find out, House Elves would only be able to keep Sybill out of trouble. They would not rehabilitate her, or return her to her former, er, _glory_. And three; House Elves are not universally renowned for their subtlety. That is to say, if Sybill got into trouble they would almost certainly come and fetch us during class time or while you were with a patient, thereby exposing the entire scheme."

By the time Minerva had three fingers displayed, Poppy was scowling sullenly out the window with her arms folded in front of her. "Yes. Right. Fine. It was a silly idea. But it was still and idea, and I've yet to hear you come up with any." she said accusingly.

Minerva rolled her eyes. "I wasn't aware it was a competition." she said in a cold voice. All the same, she redoubled her efforts in finding a solution. Let no one say Minerva McGonagall took slights against her character lying down.

There had to be something they could do, she thought desperately. Something that didn't involve constantly medicating the woman. Or putting a warning sign on her for the next poor bastard and running like hell, despite the fact that Minerva now appreciated the quiet wisdom in Snape's earlier suggestion.

Sighing, she got to her feet. "All right. Here's what we do. We alert the rest of the staff to the situation and devise a shift system, whereby we all look after her in our quieter moments. Every night we give her a sleeping draught at a suitable time and every morning we make sure she's up and lucid. And, more importantly, sober." Poppy was nodding. A bit too much, if Minerva said so herself. "What?" she asked.

Poppy's expression remained impassive but her eyes twinkled a bit as she said, "I'll agree to that. I will definitely agree to that. On one condition."

"What condition?"

"That you take the first shift."

Minerva was fairly certain the colour had drained from her face. "What? You mean… check on Sybill? Now? Tonight?" she asked in horror.

"That's precisely what I mean." Poppy stated. "This was all your idea after all."

That much was true, Minerva admitted. And it was her students who had been caring for Sybill before. So she supposed she was a tad more responsible than other members of staff. But to be honest, Minerva had seen herself in more of a matriarchal role: Scolding and organising, and sending other cannon fodder… that was to say, sending other colleagues to care for Sybill, while watching over it all in a very detached sort of way. And they said no one was an optimist past fifty.

Looking into Poppy's resolute face, Minerva realised that she had been stupidly optimistic to even hope for such a thing. "Oh fine." Minerva grudgingly agreed. "But I'm going down to the Kitchens first, too talk to the House Elves. I intend to see to it that the North Tower is kept relatively hygienic from now on."

"Oh yes. She wasn't letting anyone in before was she?" Poppy remembered. "Said that outside interference intruded upon the flow of the room and clouded her inner something-or-other." The nurse shook her head despondently. "Why are we helping her again?"

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose. "I try not to think about it." she said. "Whenever I do it only serves to depress me. Anyway, are we in agreement?"

"We are."

"Excellent. I shall go and alert the Kitchens."

"Couldn't you send Driscoll to do that?" Poppy asked curiously. "Save yourself the trip down I mean."

Minerva nodded. "I could. But you see, I want Hot Cocoa. In fact, Poppy, at this point I _need_ Hot Cocoa."

Poppy smiled understandingly. They said their goodbyes and the school nurse went back to clearing up after her consultation with Miss Parkinson. Parkinson herself was beginning to look extremely worried about the buzzing noise, causing Minerva to seriously debate leaving her afflicted with it. In the end, kindness prevailed by a small margin and she removed the spell. With her features no-longer contorted by concern, Parkinson went right back to looking bitter and hard-done-by, as though someone besides herself was to blame for her presence in the Hospital Wing.

If Minerva were offered the opportunity to change one thing about Pansy Parkinson, it would almost certainly be getting the girl to take responsibility for her own actions. Everything that befell her was someone else's fault in her mind, and she routinely set about punishing those she felt were to blame. Additionally, when someone else did well or received praise, it was never due to their hard work, but rather dumb luck or someone else's bias. For example, Malfoy's attraction to Daphne Greengrass couldn't possibly be done to Daphne's outsider status, strength of will, or strong character. Of course not, it was due to Daphne's cheekbones.

At that precise moment, Parkinson was alternately pouting and glaring at Madam Pomfrey as though the Nurse were responsible for the state Parkinson had got herself into and the pain she subsequently felt. Minerva rolled her eyes and stalked towards the exit. While she may not think a lot of Draco Malfoy, or anyone in his family, she'd say this for the boy: She couldn't fault his taste in women.

**10:01 PM  
****-The Kitchens-**

It took Minerva quite a while to get back down to the Kitchens, and not just because (as previously mentioned) the staircases had moved overnight. No, the sad fact was that her legs were killing her by this point. She'd been wandering from place to place for most of the day, and in a castle composed mainly of winding corridors and steep staircases, that was no small feat for her legs. It should also be mentioned that Diagon Alley and surrounding streets were hardly designed for easy strolling between places, and that London pedestrians were not famed for their consideration in letting people pass.

And so, by the time she found herself in front of that giant fruit bowel, Minerva was wishing dearly that the greatest Magic School in all the world had been located in a bungalow rather than a rambling castle. Ah well, something she'd have to live with.

She tickled the pear. It giggled happily and the portrait swung open.

Three-tenths-of-a-second after entering, Minerva was surrounded by House Elves with food on trays and jugs in hand. "Miss Professor Miss!" the one nearest her squeaked. "Is Miss wanting some scones Miss? Fresh from the oven with fresh strawberry jam and whipped cream!"

"Éclairs?"

"Apple pie?"

"Chicken Broth?"

"Blood Pudding?"

Minerva had been rather enjoying the display, until small Elf with big brown eyes thrust a plate of Blood Pudding at her. Feeling her stomach churn, Minerva politely declined and instead asked to see the cleaning supervisor.

"Oh. Snuffy is over there Miss." the Elf with the big brown eyes said, pointing towards the far table and looking a little dejected.

"Thank you." Minerva said. The Elf smiled, bowed deeply and hurried off with his comrades. They really were the strangest creatures.

Snuffy was a particularly spindly looking House Elf, who appeared so intensely fragile that Minerva feared he would break if touched. He was watching over a dozen or so Elves who were cleaning the table that sat directly under the Gryffindor House table. He had odd hazel eyes, rather sinister-looking fingers and was surprisingly tall, coming right up to Minerva's waist. His ears would have been exceptionally large, even for a House Elf's, were it not for the large tear on his left ear which left it looking about half the size of the one on the right; it made Minerva wonder if he was one of the House Elves that Dumbledore had 'rescued' at the end of the first war.

"Are you Snuffy?" she asked timidly. Minerva was always rather bad at dealing with House Elves. She felt particularly uncomfortable being bowed to.

Snuffy was apparently unaware of this fact however, as he let out a soft scream of dismay and turned to bow deeply. "A thousand pardons Miss, I did not see you Miss, I was distracted Miss. Miss should feel free to punish Snuffy in any way Miss sees fit." Well, Minerva thought darkly, that certainly answered the question about where Snuffy had been before Hogwarts.

"Er… thank you, for that." she said, feeling awkward. "But I don't think I'll be doing that, Snuffy. Rather, I came to ask you for a favour."

Snuffy snapped immediately out of his bow, with a discernable crack which made Minerva wince sympathetically. He appeared not to notice though. "Anything Snuffy can do to help the Professor, Miss." he said eagerly.

One really couldn't help but admire how gung-ho he was about the entire affair. Minerva nodded appreciatively. "Excellent. Well. I was hoping that the House Elves could begin cleaning the North Tower again." she said. "Since Professor Trelawney's dismissal, she's had rather a lot of trouble taking care of herself and requires all the help she can get."

Snuffy appeared thoughtful for a moment. It actually surprised Minerva just how thoughtful he looked. If half of her students put that much effort into their ponderings, her job would be a piece of cake. She even found herself wondering if Snuffy liked crossword puzzles, just because of the pensive air he had about it. "If Miss is liking…" he said slowly, as though by suggesting something he were taking a great personal risk. "Snuffy could have the Kitchen Elves send up food for the no-longer-a-Professor, Professor Miss?" he proposed. "Normally a Professor is having to make a special request, but we could start doing it anyways, Miss. If you is liking…?"

Minerva felt her face relax into a grateful smile. "You know Snuffy, I do believe that is the most helpful thing anyone has said to me all day." she commented. "Yes, that would be marvellous. Splendid. Thank you." The House Elf grinned so much that Minerva seriously wondered if his leathery skin could handle it without cracking.

Indeed, this odd behaviour did not cease for the rest of the conversation. When she casually mentioned that if she had any further favours to ask she would come straight to him as he seemed to be an exceedingly helpful and accommodating individual, Snuffy began to tear up. Minerva had felt more comfortable being hugged by Fred Weasley than she did having someone cry with gratitude because she'd asked them to clean up a tower. As such, she quickly thanked him and made her goodbyes.

She headed over to the stoves that lined the far wall and caught the attention of a young, female House Elf with gigantic green eyes who was named, coincidentally enough, Jinny. Minerva was forced to ask her name a second time, but was assured that she had actually heard it right the first time. She was tempted to ask if it was short for "Jinerva" or "Virjinia", but feared that it might somehow get back to Molly Weasley.

"Well then, Jinny." she said uncertainly, as Jinny practically bounced with enthusiasm at being addressed by a Professor. "I was, ah… I was wondering if it would be possible for me to get a mug of Hot Cocoa."

The reaction was instantaneous. Not just in Jinny but in the entire Kitchen. Every single House Elf in the entire room seemed to freeze, immediately. Minerva wondered slightly if she could have immobilised a room any quicker if she tried. She probably could, she thought distractedly. But only if she had easy access to a Basilisk and a Disco-Ball…

"Er, was it something I said?" she managed. At her question, there was once again an immediate response from every House Elf in the room. One or two burst into tears while others began stammering apologies. One over by the Hufflepuff table began smashing his head into aforementioned table and weeping. It occurred to Minerva that House Elves really were a melodramatic lot.

Someone had to take charge, she realised. Someone had to calm them down. Someone had to make them get a hold of themselves and tell her what was happening. That someone was most certainly not her.

Snuffy appeared beside them quite suddenly. It took Minerva a moment to notice him, but he was there. And he was subtly gesturing for her to stoop down and listen to him. More than happy to oblige, if only to tear her eyes away from Jinny's trembling lip, Minerva bent down.

"We is very sorry Miss. But…" Snuffy's voice took on an oddly brittle edge, akin to the tone many used when forced to speak You-Know-Who's name. "_The Headmistress_ has said that since the students aren't getting Hot Cocoa with dinner and since they is not meant to know where the Kitchens is, then there is no reason for it to be in Hogwarts." He sucked in a breath. "There is no Hot Cocoa in Hogwarts anymore." he announced dramatically. "We is no longer allowed to make it."

Minerva straightened, her eyes wide. That was it. That was the final straw. That old toad could set Aurors after her, she could interrupt her classes, she could detain her students, she could make her get up at ungodly hours in the morning to attend her utterly useless lectures… but getting rid of the Hot Cocoa? THAT was personal.

Right. That was it. Delores was getting the business end of a Puking Pastille in her tea tomorrow morning, maturity be damned. Professional courtesy or not, that old hag was going to suffer for this.

As Snuffy demonstrated his leadership ability by setting the other Elves back to work and calming the stricken Jinny. Minerva waited patiently until all was well and Snuffy returned to speak with her. "I is sorry Miss. Is there something else Miss would like?"

"No. No thank you, that's everything." Minerva said tightly, as she clicked her jaw in agitation. "You've been most helpful. Thank you." And with that, she turned and walked out.

**10:17 PM  
****-Dungeons (Various)-**

It was more or less common knowledge that Rowena Ravenclaw had come up with the idea of a moving floor plan at Hogwarts. What was less commonly known was the fact that anyone who stayed at Hogwarts for more than seven years (roughly translated, Teachers) became very, very irritated with this fact on occasions. This was one such occasion.

The floor plan shifted in stages, usually going from the bottom of the castle to the top, West to East, Outside to inside, etc. It was very methodical. And so, since the stairs and hallways by Minerva's quarters had moved the previous night, she realised that she shouldn't have been too terribly surprised when the dungeons moved around while she was in the Kitchen. However the fact remained that she had been slightly blindsided by the shift and was, for all intents and purposes, lost. No. Not just lost. She was lost, with sore legs, a Hot-Cocoa-Deficiency, and no idea how to get back upstairs. Not that she especially wanted to get back upstairs, since the second she did she would be forced to go past the North Tower and see Sybill Trelawney of all people.

She couldn't have just been sent to get tortured by Voldemort, could she? No, Minerva had to take care of people and be responsible. She could just get tortured and go home like a normal person. At least she knew Voldemort, for pity's sake. She'd actually gone on a date with him at Hogwarts once, after all. Only the once though, since he really wasn't her type. He was also infuriatingly charming, in a manner which had made Minerva dearly wish to wring his neck.

She occasionally thought it a pity that she hadn't, as it would have certainly saved everyone a great deal of trouble… Shaking her head to clear it of such desultory thoughts, Minerva leant against a wall and scowled at the middle-distance.

There was still a hell of a long way to go, once she finally managed to get out of the dungeons. Minerva briefly considered an illegal Portkey, but realised that Delores had probably set up monitors for such things and that it was more than her job was worth to try. Though it might've been worth it just to get into an impromptu-duel with Umbridge. Discounting a Portkey as an option, Minerva took a short moment to lament the "No Apparating" rule at Hogwarts. This left her with walking.

She could either walk as a human, and appear respectable; or as a cat, and be comfortable. A cat's weight was spread over four legs, and as such the legs didn't tire quite as easily. Also, since the muscle arrangement of a cat was so different to that of a human, it was rare for aches such as the ones in Minerva's calves, to translate into the cat form. However, she wasn't _technically_ supposed to transform for reasons like that. She was a teacher after all, and teachers were supposed to be mature, role-models for students. She was only supposed to transform during demonstrations or when she was going to be leaving the premises…

Minerva glanced up and down the passageway she was in and saw no sign of life whatsoever. Nor of any stairways leading upwards. That pretty much settled it. She slipped seamlessly into her cat form, taking great pleasure in feeling her muscle aches deliquesce as she did so. She stretched a bit and began adapting to the feline form as she usually did. It was always harder adapting when she was tired or emotionally drained. It was one of the reasons she now had a great respect for Sirius Black. She had tried transforming in the presence of the Dementors when they had first arrived around Hogwarts. But for some reason she couldn't quite manage it, as she was replaying every horrible moment in her life.

Shaking her head in a decidedly catty way, Minerva felt quite confident in saying that she didn't have that problem then.

She turned to face the dark dungeon passageway that she had been heading down before. The light was scarce at best; non-existent at worst, or if she were feeling pessimistic. It was true that her cat form had distinctly better night vision, but there were limits. Instead, Minerva took a seat and began listening. When she couldn't hear anything, she began sniffing. When she couldn't smell anything (anything unusual, that was), she began wandering back the way she came.

It could have been quite pleasant, had she not been longing for her bed. Minerva had never taken the time to get to know the dungeons, seeing as how she never had any need to go down there except to talk to Snape. Now that she was down here, however, she rather enjoyed it. The cool stone beneath her paws, the still air, the sparse and precious light sources; They were all relaxing in an odd sort of way. The sensation that she was miles underground and, as such, out of Delores Umbridge's reach, did tend to help a bit as well.

Minerva had been peregrinating aimlessly for nearly fifteen minutes when at last she heard a noise. It was quite a distance away, and had she been in her human form she almost certainly would have missed it. If she wasn't mistaken, it sounded like someone strolling along while humming merrily…

In the dungeons.

At night.

Huh.

Well, it took all kinds, Minerva supposed. She put the source's position to be about a hundred yards back down the passageway she'd just travelled. That fact alone was a little annoying, but she turned back all the same. She ran as fast as possible, the humming getting louder as she did so. When she estimated that the source was just around one more corner, Minerva turned herself back into a biped.

Her leg muscles bemoaned this decision quite vociferously, but it had to be done. Straightening herself as much as possible so that she wouldn't terrify some unsuspecting student with her fierce appearance, Minerva strode into the passageway.

She spotted a relatively tall, stringy figure in school robes with dark hair. It was a student, and a vaguely familiar one at that. But since she had taught every single student in the building at one time or another, that wasn't really saying much. Minerva did think, fleetingly, that no students should be out of bed so late but she had a great deal of trouble caring. Frankly, it could have been a lime green ostrich, sent by the memory of Salazar Slytherin to rid the school of Which Weekly magazines; so long as it had directions to get out of those damned dungeons.

"Hold it!" she called sharply.

The student, whoever they were, froze at the other end of the hallway and turned around to face her slowly. It was Theodore Nott. "Oh. Er… Good evening Professor." he greeted her. Unlike Malfoy, Theodore Nott still wore his school robes, right down to the tie. His hair was still perfectly neat, and everything about him seemed as fresh as it did first thing on Monday morning. It was, in Minerva's opinion, a sure sign of Dark Magic, but she didn't comment.

"Mister Nott." Minerva acknowledged. "What are you doing wandering the dungeons so late?" She felt she should at least ask, even if she didn't really care. She had to maintain certain standards and traditions, after all.

Theodore looked awkward. "Well, you see, all the dungeons have moved." he said slowly. "I was just trying to get to grips with them all and find my way around."

"At half past ten at night?" Minerva asked sceptically.

"Well they only moved a couple of hours ago." Theodore stated. "And it seemed to make more sense to do it now that it did to do it tomorrow morning."

Watching him suspiciously, Minerva placed her hands on her hips. "And how, pray tell, did you know that they'd shifted if you weren't already out after curfew?" she asked him.

"Daphne told me." he responded promptly.

Minerva nodded slowly. That made sense. It even made sense for him to be trying to get a feel for the dungeons then rather than the following morning. It was something she would have liked to have done with the stairwells around her own quarters, if she'd had an hour or two spare that day. Not that it was likely she'd be getting an hour or two spare again, ever, but she could hope. She had to hope, actually, it was the only thing keeping her sane.

Theodore was watching her with an expression of dread. After about twenty seconds of her slow nodding he sighed and threw his hands in the air. "You're going to punish me, aren't you?" he said gloomily.

Even though she knew she wasn't, Minerva pretended to consider it. "Well, I could. I could probably take twenty points for such an infraction." she commented. Theodore groaned. "Or, alternatively, you could help me and I could refrain from taking points off you."

Showing himself to be quite the Slytherin, not to mention distinctly more intelligent than some of his peers, Theodore looked at her suspiciously. "Help you with what?" he asked uncertainly.

"Help me get out of the dungeons." Minerva answered him. "You see, I seem to be lost."

Rather than mock her, snigger, or continue glaring suspiciously at her, Theodore grinned roguishly. "Certainly. Not a problem. Come with me." he said, leading the way confidently ahead. How he could possibly be so confident since the dungeons only shifted an hour or so ago, Minerva didn't know. She chose not to question it though, and followed him.

"You know, I'm curious," Minerva remarked, after a few moments walking in silence. "You seem to be quite protective of Daphne Greengrass. She evidently feels distinctly less animosity towards you than the rest of her classmates… Why didn't you help her in the incident in the common room?"

Theodore's expression darkened. "I was in the library." he told her. "They wouldn't have tried anything if I'd been there, trust me."

Surprised by his ardour, Minerva examined the boy. "Mister Nott are you…?" she frowned. "Are you and Daphne a… couple?" she asked him.

The boy stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening. "What?" he yelped. "What, because of-? No. No. We're not. We're not a couple. No." he declared firmly, gesturing to prove his point. "We're just friends. That's it. Friends." he said. Minerva would have been inclined to believe him, if it weren't for the pink flush that was making it's way up his neck. She wondered if they were friends like Ron and Hermione were friends, but they didn't seem to be.

Hmm. How interesting. "All right." she said.

"I mean… well… she asked me out. Once. In third year." he continued awkwardly. "But we didn't… I mean I couldn't… bloody hell." He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. It was quite an amusing sight really. Then he regained his composure, stood up straight and turned to face Minerva. "You know, Daphne and I have this rule. You're not allowed to lie to each other if you're out playing walkabout after hours. She didn't strictly say it was only between us, so I suppose it applies to you too."

"I'm flattered." Minerva said dryly.

"Daphne asked me out on a Hogsmeade weekend in third year. I would've gone too, but I couldn't because I already had plans with someone else." his awkwardness increased, if it were possible. "And she quickly lost interest when she discovered that I'd been going with Pansy Parkinson." he added.

Minerva's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Of all the pairings she hadn't expected amongst the Slytherins… The two of them had stopped moving. They were standing in a broad, well-lit hallway down in the dungeons and she had a sixteen year old boy in her clutches who had just sworn not to lie to her. She couldn't stop herself from asking questions.

"I had thought that Pansy was, er, interested in Draco Malfoy." she stated.

"Yeah. She is." Theodore agreed, with mild disgust. "Always has been. That combined with me scratching the surface of her personality was why we only had one date." he said.

"Why? What was under the surface?"

"More surface."

"Ah." Minerva said with a small smile. "I see." There was a moment's silence as she pondered the ethics of continuing the conversation. She quickly decided, however, that ethics were irrelevant. This was, after all, a rare opportunity to hear gossip straight from a student rather than as overheard snippets of conversation. "So Daphne wanted to go to Hogsmeade with you, but you were going to Hogsmeade with Pansy, who apparently wanted to go to Hogsmeade with Draco, who, for all appearances, wouldn't mind going to Hogsmeade with Daphne lately."

The scowl that graced Theodore's face upon hearing this observation, was nothing short of terrifying. "So it would seem." he growled. The expression on his face was magnified brilliantly by the flickering torchlight of the dungeons, until he resembled one of the guardian gargoyles placed around the castle.

Minerva nearly giggled, before she remembered that she was a teacher and as such, did not giggle. "Remembering that you're not allowed to lie, would you answer me a question?"

"Well according to the rules, I wouldn't have a choice." Theodore informed her, though he seemed far from happy about this fact.

"Splendid. So, would you or would you not leap at the chance to be part of a couple with Daphne at this point?" she asked. Theodore glared. "I'll take that as a yes. So why don't you ask her?"

"I can't believe I'm discussing this with the Head of Gryffindor House." Theodore muttered.

Minerva nodded. "Life does throw you a few curveballs on occasion. Now answer the question."

"Why don't I ask her?" he repeated. "Because she now sees me as a _friend_." He said the word as though it were a foul curse, not normally uttered in polite conversation.

"What gives you that impression?"

"The fact that she tried to set me up with Susan Bones." he said. "Not that I could ever go out with Susan Bones, even if I wanted to."

Yes, Minerva had to admit, that was a sign of waning romantic interest. Setting up your former love interest with one of your friends was hardly a sign of continued infatuation at any rate. Though for purely selfish reasons, Minerva would have been infinitely happier seeing Daphne with Theodore than with Draco Malfoy. Pushing such thoughts aside, she decided to request clarification on a minor point. "Why couldn't you go out with Susan Bones?"

"Because Blaise has a crush on her." he replied.

Minerva frowned. "Then… why doesn't Blaise ask her out?"

"Because she wouldn't go out with him while Mandy Brocklehurst it interested in him." Theodore told her. His scowl was slowly being replaced with an expression of amusement, which Minerva could only presume her confusion was the source of. Still, she kept on going.

"I thought Mandy Brocklehurst was seeing Anthony Goldstein?" she asked, dumbfounded.

Theodore seemed supremely unimpressed by this limited piece of knowledge and was smirking openly. "Yes. But they broke up about three months ago." Minerva tried to process this. "Now she's lusting after Blaise and he's seeing Hannah Abbot."

"But I thought Terry Boot was lusting after Hannah Abbot, to use your phrasing." she said, as her head began to spin with all this information.

"Well yeah, he was. But he didn't do anything about it and Goldstein got there first, so Terry's found someone else to direct his libidinous thoughts at."

"Who?"

Theodore grinned. "Pansy Parkinson."

Minerva put her head in her hands and whimpered, trying to compute all of this. Teenagers confused her, she decided. "All right." she said, raising her head a minute later. "Let me see if I've got this straight:" she took a deep breath. "Yourself and Pansy Parkinson went on a date two years ago, but only once. At the time you couldn't go with Daphne Greengrass, because you were going with Pansy, a fact which you now regret as you would like to go out with Daphne. Meanwhile, Pansy has been harbouring a crush on Draco Malfoy who has been harbouring a crush on Daphne. Daphne attempted to play matchmaker between yourself and Susan Bones, oblivious to your feelings for her, because Susan Bones has feelings for you which she is aware of. You refuse to let Susan and yourself become and item because Blaise Zabini has feelings for Susan, while Susan refuses to let herself and Blaise Zabini become and item so long as Mandy Brocklehurst has feelings for him. Correct?"

Theodore nodded. "Pretty much. I mean you missed out Hannah Abbot, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, but none of them are that interesting so you can be forgiven." Minerva gaped at his casual attitude to this deluge of information. Theodore just shrugged and started walking again. "Anyway. We should get going if you want to be out of here by eleven Professor." he called back.

"And here we are." Theodore announced, a mere ten minutes later. "Home, sweet Entrance Hall." he commented.

"Excellent." a mostly-recovered Minerva sighed. "I recommend you return to your common room now Mister Nott." she said, in her very best Teacher-Voice.

"Certainly Professor." Theodore said sweetly, making it obvious that he had no intention of doing so.

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Just tell me you'll be in your dormitory by midnight?" she requested.

"Oh, that I'll do." Theodore agreed, nodding.

"I'm glad to hear it. Thank you for all your help." she said. "You've been most, er, illuminating. And whilst I mean this in the most complimentary and grateful way possible, I must regretfully inform you that I am going to try my utmost to repress every single thing you told me this evening." Minerva informed him.

Theodore grinned at her. "I think that's probably for the best. Goodnight Professor."

"Goodnight Theodore."

**10:54 PM  
****-The North Tower-**

Minerva was pleased to say that she had never before made it all the way up to the North Tower with so very little interruption. There was that one incident with a stray penguin on the third floor, but aside from that it was clear sailing ever since she left the dungeons. To be fair, she didn't exactly go up to that particular tower frequently, and that particular occasion was the first time she had gone up there after six o'clock at night. But still, Minerva thought the lack of disastrous incidents was worth mentioning.

As she reached the trapdoor that led to Sybill's classroom, however, she was quite alarmed to see the ladder had already been drawn down and even more alarmed to hear voices coming from the classroom above. So help her, if she got up there and found Lavender Brown OR Parvati Patil, she was going to do some serious damage. Her fears were put to rest, however, as she approached the ladder. The conversation became clearer and it became quite clear that the Good Samaritan in question was a fellow teacher. A fellow, female teacher who was quite distinctly NOT Delores Umbridge.

"Sybill!"

"Oh it's so pretty!"

"Sybill get in here!"

"Such a pity it foretells of such dreadfully violent things…"

"Sybill I'm not coming up after you. If I have to Bind you and float you in, I will!"

"It's so bright. Do you see it dear? Do you see how bright Mars is?"

"You can't _see_ Mars Sybill, it's raining."

"Nonsense! My inner eye can look beyond such trivial boundaries as… AAH!"

"SYBILL!"

Minerva scrambled up the ladder as quickly as possible; the first time she had ever done so without thinking of how gloriously undignified it was to enter a classroom through a ladder. She emerged in the stuffy classroom and tried to adjust to the dimness that engulfed her. The entire room was lit only by what meagre light had managed to filter in from outside and by one rose-scented candle in the centre of the room.

She could, however, make out the faint outline of Auriga Sinistra by the window on the far-side of the room. More worryingly, she could also make out the outline of Sybill Trelawney, dangling off the edge of the roof and apparently holding on for dear life.

Minerva ran immediately over to the open window which Auriga was leaning out of, and pulled out her wand, ready to help. "What on Earth if going on?" she asked in horror.

Auriga started a bit as she saw her, but quickly recovered. "Sybill was doing some star-gazing on the roof." she said darkly. Minerva opened her mouth to point out that it was raining, but was cut off by Auriga. "Don't even say it. I know. Anyway, she slipped and now she's… hanging."

Auriga was crouched precariously on the window sill, with her hand hooked around the frame as she leant out towards where Sybill was dangling. Sybill herself had her fingers hooked over a drainpipe a few centimetres above the window frame.

"Oh hello Minerva." she greeted pleasantly. Minerva waved in response, not trusting herself to speak without cursing the idiot. Really, Pansy Parkinson going to pieces Minerva could appreciate, but Sybill was a fully-grown woman for pity's sake. This was ridiculous. She should at least be able to handle being fired without resorting to alcoholism. Or, if she really insisted upon drinking, she should at least have the common courtesy to do so with a bottle of Firewhisky and a melancholy expression, like any other self-respecting Hopeless-Drunk™.

"Do you want to drop or catch?" Auriga asked politely.

Minerva looked at her.

"What?" she asked uncomfortably. "Drop or catch. One of us has to put her under a Full-Body-Bind to make her easy to transport while the other one has to catch her quickly and levitate her inside." she stated, in a very matter-of-face voice.

"Auriga, if you don't mind my asking, how often do you _do_ this exactly?" Minerva asked her curiously. Auriga flushed. Realising that there were more important things to be getting on with than discussing the Astronomy Professor's stranger occupations, Minerva rolled up her sleeves. "I'll catch her." Minerva stated.

"Right then." Auriga agreed, shuffling over so that Minerva could also lean out the window.

Minerva braced her left arm on the window sill and took a firm grip, as she was rather disinclined to plummet to her death. Twisting herself so that her wand arm was free to cast a simple spell, she leant outside to get a decent shot. The cold rain hit her face, but Minerva was too fed up to care by this point. In front of her Sybill was dangling like a surreal Christmas decoration or something, and Minerva actually found herself contemplating how long the (ahem) "Psychic" could stay up there without support. She was also vaguely interested to see if, from such a great height, Sybill would bounce. Purely academic curiosity, Minerva told herself, rather than any real desire to witness such an outcome. Still… it would have been interesting.

"All right." she announced as she got into position, ignoring such macabre notions. "One. Two-"

"Wait!" Auriga interrupted suddenly. Minerva peered around at her. "Are we going on three or after three?" Auriga asked.

"What's the difference?"

"Well '_on_ three' means that it goes: One, two, THREE, with the action occurring as we actually say three."

"The action in this case being you casting the Full-Body-Bind and me catching her. Correct?"

"Quite. Whereas '_after_ three' implies that it goes: One, two, three - action."

"Well then I normally go on three. It is faster, after all. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't see that it makes much difference either way. Besides, I normally go after three."

"You go after three? Really? How peculiar."

"Well with the after three method, one actually says three but with the on three method, the number three is replaced with the action making the number itself rather irrelevant."

"I suppose that's true, but at the same time-"

"AAH!"

Both Minerva and Auriga snapped around, casting their respective spells instantly, on reflex. A board-stiff Sybill hung in mid-air, nearly eight feet down from where she had previously been suspended. Beside her, Minerva heard Auriga let out a sigh of relief. Minerva, who was still responsible for manoeuvring Sybill indoors, didn't quite trust herself to let out the breath which was stuck somewhere around her diaphragm.

She spent thirty, tension-filled seconds angling her just so… By the time she had the former-Divination Professor ready to enter the window, Minerva's heart was in her throat. She'd almost dropped her. She didn't believe it. Pushing herself off the ledge, she indicated for Auriga to do the same so that Sybill could enter more easily.

"Did uh…" Auriga cleared her throat and hopped down off the window sill. "Did you forget she was there, too?"

Minerva shot her a look. Auriga just raised her eyebrows. Reluctantly, Minerva nodded. "I did. Now let us never speak of it again."

"Deal."

She placed Sybill on one of the many armchairs strewn around the room, while Auriga undid the Body-Bind. Sybill immediately went limp and collapsed into the chair in a dead faint.

Minerva looked at her carefully. "Why is it that every time I encounter her today, it ends with her unconscious and me questioning my sanity?" she wondered aloud. Not really expecting a response, she shook her head and continued. "What were you doing here Auriga? If you don't mind my asking."

Vaguely, Minerva saw her colleague shrug. It was hard to distinguish in the dim room, but just clear enough to make out. "I was setting up for my practical class this evening when I looked down and saw her on the roof." she said, referring, Minerva presumed, to Sybill. "I came as fast as I could. Would have been here sooner if it weren't for those bloody Penguins." she muttered. "Why? What were you doing here?"

She was quickly updated her on the plan to care for Sybill. Auriga groaned but agreed all the same. Glancing around the murky room, Auriga commented, "I'll never understand how she can put up with this. I can't see a thing."

Minerva was inclined to agree. How anyone could tolerate such obscurity in their own living quarters was quite beyond her. True, they were in Sybill's classroom rather than her private quarters, but the difference was negligible at best. In point of fact, there were days where even Sybill couldn't tell the difference between the two.

Staring at the one, pitiable, flickering candle that sat upon a coffee table in the centre of the room, releasing it's sickly sweet scent upon the world while doing very little to actually light the place, Minerva was reminded intensely of Sybill. If it were possible for Ex-Divination Teachers to have wax and wick sisters, Minerva felt sure that this pathetic little candle was Sybill Trewlaney's. It was quite depressing, yet oddly hypnotic to sit there staring at the sorry little thing…

"Oh, I can't stand this anymore. Lumos. AAH!"

Minerva continued to stare at the candle, but blinked a few times. The entire room had been lit up like a Dutch brothel, slamming the candle's sickly light into obscurity and causing Minerva's pupils to contract quite painfully. In the corner Auriga had clamped her hands over her eyes and allowed her wand to clatter to the floor.

Quite mystified as to what was going on, Minerva commented "You know Auriga, your illumination charms are really quite powerful."

Auriga swore, though whether it was directed at her or not Minerva couldn't tell. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden glare, Minerva's addled brain deduced that the light which suddenly bedazzled her was most certainly not coming from Auriga's wand-light. It was, perplexingly enough, streaming in through the windows.

Minerva strode immediately over to the open window she had been dangling out of moments before, and looked outside. What she saw caused her jaw to drop.

The light was coming from the castle itself. Blindingly bright handwriting, that glowed a thousand different colours like neon signs, had covered every inch of the castle, casting a glow over the landscape for miles around. The same four words were repeated over and over, in varying sizes, covered every available surface. It read:

**PROPERTY OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**

A thousand times or more, all over the building. They could probably see it in Hogsmeade. Hell, they could probably see it from Space.

It took Minerva a moment to process the sight. When she did, her eyes flickered down to the front doors where she saw the unmistakeable figures of Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Lee Jordan and Kenneth Towler; all sneaking in through the front doors and sniggering uncontrollably. Well, she supposed she'd asked for it.

"My God." Auriga breathed, suddenly appearing over Minerva's shoulder and grinning. "I wonder how our dear Delores will react to this?" she wondered, with a soft giggle.

Delores.

Minerva had momentarily forgotten about Delores. And the Ministry. How many Ministry workers lived in Hogsmeade these days? A fair few, there was no doubt. And how many were, at this very moment, wandering towards their windows to see what had caused the sudden illumination? How many would Apparate instantly to work to report this startling new development? And would this latest act of insubordination from the students finally make Delores's head explode?

The weariness and ennui that had been beginning to affect Minerva that evening vanished in an instant. It was replaced with the strange urge to hug something. Tearing herself away from the window Minerva announced that she had somewhere she really ought to be.

"You mean the Staff Room?" Auriga asked. Minerva came to a halt by the trapdoor and stared at her questioningly. "Er… In situations like this the Heads of House are meant to go to the Staff Room, aren't they? To help the Headmistress? So isn't that where you're going?"

"Oh. Er… yeah. Sure. Why not?" Minerva agreed, before disappearing down the ladder.

**11:10 PM  
****-Seventh Floor, West corridor-**

She'd been forced to practically sprint to get there in time; a fact which her leg muscles were keenly aware of as they throbbed painfully. Nonetheless, she reached her destination just before her targets.

She was in the hallway outside the Gryffindor Common Room. The hall itself was dark and shadowy, or at least it would have been if it weren't for the abundant light pollution streaming in through the windows. The light bounced off the polished wooden floors, and seemed to be irritating a few of the portrait's a great deal. Not the Fat Lady though.

"Good Evening Professor." she greeted pleasantly.

Minerva simply waved in response, too out of breath to return the sentiment properly. She gulped in some air and managed (barely) to look composed before they got there. The four seventh year students she had observed sneaking inside a mere five minutes previously, came thundering along the corridor with looks of triumph on their faces. The expressions wavered as they caught sight of Minerva and came to a halt by the Fat Lady's portrait.

She sent them her most commanding and disapproving scowl and was pleased to see Kenneth Towler cower a bit. The other three never cowered. She supposed it was their long-term association with Fred and George Weasley that did it. They did, however, look mildly frightened.

Lee Jordan was the first to recover. "Well you told us to be original." he muttered childishly.

"And you can't prove it was us." Angelina added, folding her arms across her chest and looking oddly like a general about to lead her troops to war. Minerva felt ridiculously proud of her at that moment.

"Quiet." she snapped. Anyone who looked like they were going to start talking immediately clammed up. Minerva raised her eyebrows at them all. "Lux scriptas ink or Lumen Locus charm?" she asked.

"Both." Alicia murmured. "And a couple of other things. We wanted some variety so it'd be harder to get rid of, but we added a trigger mechanism so it all started at the same time."

Angelina gave her a swift kick. "Just tell her everything why don't you? It'll be gone by morning now." she hissed.

"Miss Johnson, I hate to break it to you but it would have been gone by morning anyway." Minerva said harshly. Behind her, the Fat Lady was blatantly listening in, but Minerva didn't really care so she continued. "The light currently emanating from this castle has certainly reached Hogsmeade. That means that a few dozen Ministry personnel will be here within the hour to remove it. This sort of behaviour does not reflect well on the Ministry."

The seventh years looked simultaneously delighted and annoyed by the fact that the Ministry would get involved.

She continued. "Ministry involvement means that if it is ever discovered that you four were responsible for this, you will be instantly expelled and quite possibly brought before the Wizengamot. Do you understand?"

"But… But… it's just a prank!" Lee cried in horror.

"Mister Jordan, _keep your voice down_." she snapped. "Now that the situation has been made clear to you, it is time for the consequences…" Minerva allowed the sentence to hang ominously over the four of them.

Kenneth gulped loudly.

It wasn't that Minerva necessarily enjoyed terrorising them (though, she did), but she did feel that they should be made to understand the sort of forces they were dealing with. She strode back and forth a few times before turning to face them properly, with her hand clamped behind her back. "Five points apiece for original and ingenious application of everyday spell work." she announced. Four eyes widened like dinner plates. "And twenty-five points from Gryffindor for enchanting the East Hallway with the Glissante Charm. Now get to bed. All of you."

"But Professor! We didn't!"

"We don't know anything about that!"

"You can't possibly nail that on us!"

"What makes you think we did it?" Angelina asked, being the only one of the four to take even a vaguely calm approach to this announcement. True, her face was contorted in a fierce glare, but at least she could communicate properly.

Minerva waved her hand impatiently. "Of course you did it. I've been reprehending for it for the past hour and a half. Now stop wasting my time and get to bed. _Now_!" she dismissed them.

Comprehension dawned on four young faces, quickly followed by intense gratitude and appreciation.

"You're covering for us?" Alicia asked in awe. "You?"

Minerva rolled her eyes and turned sharply on her heel, heading downstairs. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about Miss Spinnet. And if the four of you don't get into that Common Room in the next thirty seconds, you will all receive a detention." she told them.

There was an instant scrabbling for the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Professor?" Angelina called after her.

Minerva turned back, hand on hip, and glared expectantly at her. "Miss Johnson?"

Angelina grinned. "I like your blouse." And with that statement, she dove for the open Portrait Hole.

**11:26 PM  
****-Staff Room-**

Minerva opened the Staff Room door and, for the first time that day, found it more-or-less empty. There were only two occupants of the room, the first being a very stressed looking Delores Umbridge and the second being one of the penguins which seemed to be taking over the school. The penguin was asleep on one of the couches while Delores paced in front of the fireplace.

"Finally!" she shrieked, throwing her hands up and stomping towards Minerva. "This travesty occurred nearly twenty minutes ago and you are the first teacher to respond! Where are the rest of you?" Delores demanded.

Minerva froze in the doorway and considered it for a moment. "Well," she said. "Only the Heads of House are technically required to respond under circumstances such as this, where no students are in actual danger."

"So where are the other Heads of House!"

"Professors Sprout and Flitwick enjoy a relatively early night, since both are quite firm morning people." Minerva explained. "As for Professor Snape - his office, classroom and living quarters are all in the dungeons. I think it exceedingly likely that he is not even aware of the situation."

Minerva closed the door behind her and took a seat opposite the slumbering penguin, as though there were nothing out of the ordinary happening. She helped herself to a fat piece of fudge from the tin that sat on the coffee table and began nibbling on it carelessly while Delores fumed. That penguin really did look comfortable, Minerva thought idly. In all her life she'd never seen someone look so utterly relaxed on that particular couch. She was actually a bit jealous. She wondered if the House Elves had changed her sheets… it was so hard to keep track of when they did such things…

Minerva realised that Delores was talking and that she should, at the very least, feign interest.

"We've got a lot of work ahead of us, that's for sure." she stated, waddling back and forth. "I've already spoken to the Minister, he's quite outraged. This behaviour cannot be tolerated, I'm sure you'll agree."

She really must be desperate, Minerva realised. If she thought for a second that Minerva was going to be helpful in this instance. Then again, there was no real reason why Minerva shouldn't help if it meant she was going to benefit from it. Or, more accurately, if her students were going to benefit.

The cogs started turning in Minerva's mind as she watched the Headmistress rant incoherently in front of her. Oh yes, Minerva thought, this certainly was quite the opportunity.

"I'll guarantee it was that seventh year lot. Always causing trouble. They'll never get into the Ministry, I'll tell you that much. Those wicked, contemptible little-"

"I hate to disappoint you Delores, but if you are referring to Miss Johnson, Miss Spinnet, Mister Jordan and Mister Towler, they have been with me since ten o'clock." Minerva said simply.

Delores stared at Minerva incredulously. "With you? Why?" she asked, suspicion evident.

She was really such a hapless twit on occasions. It was quite disheartening to think that one's main antagonist was that dense, or for Minerva it was. She usually had a distinctly higher class of enemy. "I must regretfully inform you that it was they who were responsible for the Glissante charm in the East Hallway." she said gravely. "Points have been deducted of course, and they were severely reprimanded. I only permitted them to return to their common room when I saw the… er… graffiti, shall we call it." she said, gesturing towards the bright window.

Delores scrutinised Minerva for a few seconds. "Is that so?" she asked quietly. Her eyes drifted down and she took in Minerva's attire. It took a moment but they eventually sunk in… "Your clothes! You're wearing muggle clothing!" she cried.

Minerva wondered if giving her superior a slow and immensely sarcastic round of applause for her quick wit and observation skills, could be considered mutinous. Rather than risk it, she merely stared back at Delores in her patented Unaffected-Feline manner.

"You weren't wearing muggle clothes earlier." Delores continued, in a manner which indicated this fact was undeniable proof of wrongdoing.

"I am aware of this fact Delores." Minerva said.

"Well why are you wearing them now?"

"I have been known to change my attire on occasion." She glanced at the pink, tweed poncho that Delores had been wearing all day and felt penitence that she didn't do the same. Deciding to do the thing properly, Minerva continued. "I had a bath earlier on to relax. I had very little sleep last night and a long day today. Since I was unlikely to relax in my work robes, I decided to change out of them. Surely there isn't an Educational decree against that, is there Delores?" she asked sweetly.

Delores huffed. "Well it is frowned upon to show yourself to students in such apparel Minerva." she said disapprovingly.

"Hmm. I know. Thing is, I very rarely see students after classes. At least until recently." she said, clearly indicating that the whole thing was Delores's fault and that the bitter old toad should feel shame. The fact that she didn't wasn't exactly a huge surprise, but she _should_ nonetheless. "But back to the point. Would you like my assistance or not?"

Delores nodded sharply. "Certainly. We'll get to work at once. Follow me."

_Pfft. As if._ Minerva thought cynically as Delores headed for the door. "Ah. Yes. Well. See the thing is Delores I can't actually help in so, ah, direct a manner." Minerva said loudly.

Delores spun back. "What? What do you mean? Why not? What do you mean? Why can't you?" she asked, sounding like a machine gun she was asking so quickly. "This insubordination will be reported to the Ministry!" she finished shrilly.

"It is Ministry guidelines which prevent me from helping you Delores." Minerva told her, polishing off the piece of fudge and wondering if it would be too terribly greedy to take another.

"What are you talking about?" Delores asked, with a hooked eyebrow.

Minerva smiled. "Educational Decree Number Thirty One, passed just this afternoon, states that no Hogwarts staff save the Headmistress herself may enchant, bewitch or otherwise modify any aspect or feature of the school." she recited contritely. "If we are to follow this to the letter, Delores, it would in fact be quite illegal for me to help you. Fudge?"

Delores was gaping like a codfish. Minerva took this as a no and returned the fudge to the tin.

The Headmistress took a moment and finally returned to her senses. "You would be working with me directly. And I would put in a good word with the Minister." she laughed a breathy little laugh. "Nothing would happen to you." Though she sounded unsure.

Minerva smiled thinly. She got to her feet and walked over to the window, where the brilliant light was still streaming in. "Do you see that? Down there?" she asked. "That, Delores, is Hogsmeade. I happen to know for a fact that Darren Dawlish lives in Hogsmeade. He interviewed me earlier today, you know." Delores, of course, knew full well. That wasn't the point. Minerva continued conversationally. "During that interview, Delores, he made it abundantly clear that he would love nothing better than to lock me away. He can probably see this vandalism right now. Even as we speak he could be heading up here. And if he were to find me breaking a law passed only a few hours ago, he would send me to Azkaban as soon as look at me." she looked up at Delores. "The Minister would never even be contacted."

Delores made a noise somewhere between a croak and a whimper, but she didn't disagree.

"I could of course…" Minerva started thoughtfully. She broke off, shaking her head. "No, no. I couldn't possibly. Even if it wouldn't get me caught, it would still be unethical. Never mind. Best of luck Delores." she started towards the door, counting down in her head.

Three.

Two.

"WAIT!" Delores screeched. Minerva so loved being right.

She stopped in her tracks and looked back at Delores. She was the very picture of the word Desperation. "Yes?"

"What? What could you do? This will take hours! Don't you see that? Hours! It might make it to the Prophet!" she said frantically. "What, Minerva? What could you do?"

Minerva took a long-suffering sigh and clasped her hands in front of her. "I'd like to help you Delores, really I would. Not for you of course, as I'm sure you're aware that we hardly get along, but for the reputation of Hogwarts." she paused dramatically. "But it would involve such personal risk that… Well, I'm sorry it simply wouldn't be worth my while."

She had chosen her words very carefully, and was pleased to see it pay off almost instantly. Delores was apparently thinking hard. Within a few short seconds, the Headmistress had a plan. It struck Minerva that she may have really missed her calling as a Slytherin.

"What if I made it worth your while?" she simpered. "A pay rise perhaps? A good word in the Minister's ear? Job security? Anything!" Minerva very nearly cursed her for suggesting that she didn't already have job security, but let it pass.

She adopted a thoughtful expression. "Anything? Well… there is one thing you could do for me Delores." she said.

Delores leant forwards, looking eager.

Minerva smiled. "Hermione Granger." she said.

A look of revulsion crossed the Headmistress's face. "What about her?"

"You said this morning at breakfast that she would never pass another piece of homework." Minerva reminded her. "I would appreciate it if you would retract that statement."

An internal battle seemed to be occurring inside Delores Umbridge. One which Minerva would have almost certainly found entertaining, had she had the opportunity to sit down and really appreciate it, perhaps with a glass of Elf-made Wine and a couple of canapés. At the moment, however, she could only feel a sense of fleeting amusement at the spectacle. On the one hand, helping Minerva would mean helping Hermione; a concept which was quite clearly an anathema for dear old Delores. On the other hand, helping Minerva would also mean getting some help in return, something which she desperately needed at that point.

Had Minerva been in her position, she would have demanded that whomever she was dealing with clarify exactly what help they were offering. But then, Delores was apparently much more used to vague threats, inexplicit offers of help, and general shady dealings than Minerva had given her credit for, as she seemed used to this sort of hoopla. In many ways, Minerva preferred dealing with criminals to politicians; at least with criminals you were clear on what you were getting. Yes, they would try to swindle you and cheat you out of all you were worth, but at least they were upfront about it.

Delores came to a decision. Finally.

"Very well, Minerva." she said through gritted teeth. "I will continue to grade Miss Granger normally."

"And I am to take your word alone on this fact?" Minerva asked sceptically, with raised brows. "I think not Delores."

"I _swear_." Delores snapped. "What do you want? An Unbreakable vow from me?"

"That would certainly do the job." Minerva commented, wondering if she could persuade Delores into it. If she could then all Hogwarts problems would be solved the next time Gryffindor was assigned Defence Against the Dark Arts homework and Delores Umbridge would snuff it quickly, quietly and without making too much of a mess. Voila: Happy Hogwarts. It wasn't very likely though.

Delores stomped her foot. "Don't be ridiculous, Minerva!"

Minerva stared at Delores's shoe. She had really just stomped her foot. It was remarkable. Minerva had never seen a fully-grown woman do such a thing. Then again, she'd never seen a fully-grown woman keep pictures of fluffy white kittens in her office either, so perhaps she shouldn't be so surprised. Still. It was hardly probative with regards to maintaining the authority of the staff to have a Headmistress who threw mini-temper tantrums. A little decorum was all she asked.

"What if…" Delores took a deep breath, as though she were about to utter some abhorrent malediction. "What if I got Professor Snape to correct Miss Granger's work from now on?" she suggested. "You could, of course, check in with him to see that it was being carried out. You could hold me to it. I give you my word."

Delores Umbridge's verbal agreements were not worth the air into which they were uttered. But her fear for Professor McGonagall, and indeed Professor Snape, was irrefutable enough. Minerva nodded. "Yes. That would be most satisfactory." she agreed, heading once more for the door.

"Wait!" Delores shrieked. "What about your part of the deal? You said you were going to help!"

Minerva chuckled carelessly. "Oh yes. I forgot. How silly of me."

"Well?" Delores implored.

Minerva made a great show of surreptitiously checking to see if anyone was listening, which caused Delores to inch closer and closer to her. When at last she was close enough, Minerva crouched down to her level and adopted a stage whisper.

"On the First Floor." she confided. "Behind the statue of Urg the Unclean…"

"Yes, yes, yes?" Delores whispered back hopefully, as though Minerva held the secrets to the universe.

"If you tap him with your wand, he'll leap to one side. And behind him… you'll find some extra Magical Mess Remover and a spare mop. Goodnight."

Minerva had already turned and sauntered out of the room before Delores could compose herself enough to respond.

**11:48 PM  
****-Sixth Floor, South Balcony-**

It occurred to Minerva, as she made her way back upstairs to her personal quarters, that if any Muggle had seen her at that moment they would have surely known she was a witch. Despite her muggle clothing, and the fact that her wand was completely out of sight, she was utterly certain that any unsuspecting muggle who saw her would have deduced her true nature instantly.

Perhaps it was the wild black hair (she'd taken it down somewhere on the second floor, not seeing any reason to continue the pretence of propriety). Perhaps it was the pointy black boots. Perhaps it was the severe features she'd had all her life. Or perhaps it was her gleaming eyes and demented cackling that would have tipped them off. Whatever it was, it would have betrayed her in a heartbeat.

But she had trouble caring. Just like she had trouble caring about the fact that if any students saw her in such a state, she could kiss her hard-earned reputation goodbye. In fact, at that very moment, the only thing she really cared about was the fact that she couldn't breathe. Which was why she threw open the French windows at the end of the sixth floor corridor and stepped out onto the balcony, desperately praying that some wind, rain and blinding, multi-coloured lights would calm her down. Besides, she still had one thing to do before she went to bed.

The wind and rain slapped at her face as they had done innumerable times before that day, this time, however, she had trouble caring. Gasping and wheezing, she took in as much air as possible and tried to compose herself. After a few minutes, she finally managed it. She knew that no one on the ground could see her, as she was somewhat disguised by the dazzling lettering that surrounded her. As such, Minerva didn't think her reputation was under threat anymore.

However the howling winds had hardly lessened Minerva's resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West. Her hair now rose up around her face like the snakes on Medusa. Still, at least she'd stopped cackling.

She pulled out her wand and concentrated as best she could. "Accio Coat." she commanded.

It would take a while for it to get there, she knew. She could fill in the time easily enough. The Balcony didn't look over the front of the castle, so it was unlikely anyone would see her coat flying through the air. She had to tie up loose ends though. If some Ministry Employee headed up to help Delores, happened to shelter momentarily under a tree and spotted something suspicious… She had muggle money, a receipt from dinner, an receipt from Fred and George, an antidote to Veritaserum and God-knew-what-else in there. If anyone could place her in that coat she'd have been sent to Azkaban quicker than the guests at a Lestrange family reunion. Not because of anything particularly illegal she'd done, but because of the possible illegal things the Ministry could pin on her in the interim.

They were keen to get rid of anyone considered a supporter of Dumbledore, and Minerva more than fit that description.

The Lake down below her was stirring violently in the weather. There was no sign of the Giant Squid, who tended to take refuge deeper in the lake during such weather. The lights of the castle reflected in the water, so that the phrase "Property of Albus Dumbledore" was repeated hundreds of times, backwards and illegible in the churning water. It was quite pretty in an odd sort of way. Lee and Angelina should be proud.

She knew it had been Lee and Angelina who had masterminded the prank. Alicia was too… well… nice to be so devious, and as much as she hated to say it, Kenneth Towler just didn't have the brains. It wasn't that Lee and Angelina were cold hearted geniuses or anything, just that they were a bit more inclined to such behaviour and a bit more capable of the actual mechanics involved.

Minerva had heard a rumour that Angelina was wanted for the Holyhead Harpies reserve team. She'd also heard a rumour that the Queer Dick Quidditch Hour on the Wizarding Wireless (which normally took a lot longer than an hour) wanted Lee Jordan as an understudy to their current commentator. Minerva sincerely hoped both rumours were true. Not only because the idiot on the Queer Dick Quidditch Hour annoyed her intensely, but because it would be nice to hear Lee Jordan commentate without having to spend the entire time scolding him. He was actually entertaining when you weren't his teacher.

A short distance away, Minerva could hear a faint whistling which indicated the imminent arrival of her coat. Her coat which she was supremely grateful she'd enchanted to repel water, given the weather conditions. It flew into her outstretched hand and she snatched it quickly. The second it did, however, Minerva knew there was something wrong. It was too heavy.

Visions of tracing devices from the Ministry, or more sinister devices from Lord Voldemort, danced frantically through her head. She very nearly set the thing on fire right there, just to be on the safe side but managed to restrain herself.

She did, however, seal the door behind her shut. If it was something malignant, she damn well wouldn't be setting it loose on the students. Looking down at the heavy woollen coat, Minerva vaguely wished she had an umbrella but it seemed rather silly to conjure one.

Emptying the left pocket, she was pleased to find nothing out of place. She returned the assorted papers to their original place and turned her attentions to the right pocket. After determining that there was nothing lurking in the coat lining or some such, of course. But a quick scan revealed that it was, in fact, the right pocket she was dealing with. She prodded it suspiciously with her wand, but nothing happened. It made the chances of her blowing up the school slimmer, but didn't remove them completely.

Minerva lifted the flap slowly and peered inside.

There was nothing particularly ominous in there. And she was quite certain she had not unleashed the breath of a Nundu or anything upon Hogwarts. Rather, all the pocket contained was a medium-sized, metal hipflask with a note wrapped around it.

Minerva let out a breath. "Well, if it kills me now, at least my last act on this good Earth was infuriating Delores." she muttered. The rain was still lashing down, but she had trouble caring. She swiftly removed the note surrounding the hipflask, but continued to eye the object itself with caution.

The note was written on heavy, yellowing parchment in rich, black ink. The handwriting was elaborate and strangely pleasing to the eye. It was, however, the signature at the bottom which made Minerva's face split into a grin. It read as follows:

_Dearest Minerva,  
__I thought you might appreciate this, given the unfortunate circumstances in the Kitchens.  
__In other news, I must say that while I find the castle's recent make-over a tad extreme, it is quite delightful nonetheless. You will be pleased to hear that Darren Dawlish suspected you instantly. I seem to recall you disliked him quite a bit.  
__Oh, and just so you know, I thought your blouse looked lovely.  
__Yours sincerely, Albus Dumbledore. Who very much wishes he could communicate with you more directly._

Minerva read it through several times, until she had memorised every word of it, before setting it alight. No evidence could be left behind after all. She then glanced at the hipflask, with a smile still gracing her face. She opened the lid the tiniest fraction and…

The rich, delicious smell of Honeydukes Finest Drinking Chocolate wafted out. Minerva closed her eyes in ecstasy and savoured it.

"Thank you." she murmured. "Much appreciated." With a small laugh she slid her coat into the crook of her elbow and closed the flask, before re-entering the castle and heading straight for her Bedroom Quarters.

**11:59 PM  
****-Bedroom Quarters-**

Thoroughly exhausted, both mentally and physically, Minerva practically floated into her Bedroom. The House Elves, the little darlings, had made her bed with clean sheets and turned them down. They had also lit the fire in the hearth and laid out her favourite nightshirt for her, at Driscoll's request, no doubt.

Driscoll himself was watching her with an expression which suggested he was about to tell her he'd killed her dog. "I'm so very sorry Minerva," he said dolefully. "It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of, but the Kitchens… well they don't have any… what I mean is…"

Minerva placed the hipflask on a small table by the fireplace and smiled at her personal messenger. "It's perfectly all right. I acquired some Hot Chocolate through other means."

Driscoll beamed at her. "Oh. Well. That's all right then." he said.

"Thank you for the thought though." Minerva commented.

She slid off her boots and sank gratefully into her armchair by the fire, feeling all the tension of the day drain out of her. She luxuriated in it for a moment before reaching for her flask. Glancing up at Driscoll, she also saw that he was watching her strangely.

"What?" she asked him.

"Nothing." he responded hastily. "Nothing at all. You just…" he shook his head. "And how was your day?"

Minerva considered her answer a moment, a small smile playing at her lips. "You know, it was really rather pleasant come to think of it. Not in by traditional definition of course, but fairly enjoyable all the same."

"Glad to hear it."

"And yours?" she asked politely, before taking a sip of her drink. The rich, toothsome liquid trickled down her throat, instantly soothing her even more than she would have thought possible. God Bless Albus Dumbledore, she thought gratefully.

Driscoll stared at her. "Y-you, you really want to know about my day?" he asked her, clearly suspecting a trick of some sort. Minerva felt a pang of guilt as she realised she'd never asked him that before.

She nodded emphatically. "Leave nothing out." she requested, drawing her legs up and settling in for a long stay.

Driscoll grinned at her and took a seat. Minerva smiled benignly, snuggled deeper into her armchair and took another sip of her hot chocolate. "Funny you should ask." he said, straightening his purple top hat importantly. "As you wouldn't believe the day I've had…"


End file.
